Safe In the Dark
by zombie josette
Summary: AU. A vampire returns to town in search of a witch just as Victoria Winters is hired to keep watch over Collinwood in the event of anything supernatural, sparking a chain of events exceeding her dreams or nightmares.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: A note is mandatory because – ohmygod I'm actually attempting a long fic again. This is quite a feat for me, seeing as I haven't tried this in, like, seven years. Or something like that. BUT. I've put myself on a schedule and everything this time, so hopefully I'll be able to keep to that. Anyway, here's hoping you enjoy this! :)

o o o

**Chapter One**

It wasn't uncommon for the highway leading into the small seaside town to be entirely deserted, especially at this hour of night, but Barnabas Collins kept his eyes glued to the road anyway. He was tense behind the wheel, and he slowed more than was necessary at every curve as if he were assessing whether or not it was safe to continue driving. Part of it, he assumed, could be blamed on the fact that he was still getting used to the car and the idea of _driving_ in general. But Barnabas knew that he actually _didn't_ know what to expect, and that he could never be too careful. He had seen things happen in this town; he had to be cautious.

The lights of the black car cut through the darkness, and Barnabas' eyes flicked to the right of the road when they shone on something that wasn't foliage for the first time in hundreds of miles. The sign read "Welcome to Collinsport," and though the paint was peeling from the wood and plants threatened to consume it, Barnabas thought that it would still be a happy signal to most that they had reached their destination. But the scene depicted on it – a happy depiction of the beach – only made Barnabas uneasy. Through all the things that had happened here in this small town, it seemed out of place. The thought struck him that perhaps things _had_ changed. Maybe Collinsport was now just as it would seem to any random passerby: a quaint, if perhaps sleepy little beach town, with nothing out of the ordinary. No distractions to disturb it from its drowsiness. Barnabas refused to entertain the thought, however, and his mouth fell into a thin line as he gripped the steering wheel tighter and hit the brake slightly as he crossed over the bridge and onto Main Street.

It was exactly as he had expected at this hour: apart from a few teenagers with glass bottles and cigarettes and other paraphernalia, there was nobody in sight. They were probably all fast asleep by now, giving Barnabas nearly free reign of the streets. Barnabas stopped at a red light, and the teenagers looked warily at the car before clumsily trying to hide their drinks and cigarette cartons and plastic bags filled with who knew what else. Barnabas managed a nearly-silent chuckle as the light changed to green and he drove off. He wasn't prepared for the wave of nostalgia that hit him as he looked around the town, marveling at how much and yet how little the place had changed since the last time he had been there. He had to do a double-take when he passed the doctor's office; it was in the same place that he remembered, though of course with several technological enhancements. The schoolhouse that the children of the town had attended had been torn down, and in its place stood a much larger building that proclaimed itself to be Collinsport High School. Barnabas couldn't help but stare at it in awe as he drove past; he thought that he had gotten used to these sorts of advancements. Of course, they were inevitable, but he couldn't name the feeling that swept through him when he thought of how the town was evolving.

Soon, Barnabas was nearly completely sidetracked, taking to driving through all of the large, usually-busy streets and the back-roads that he remembered, but he slowed when he came near Beach Road. He turned his head to look down the road. It would have been easy to turn, to follow the road until it came to a driveway, and to follow the long driveway up a hill until it came to park at the estate. It would have been easy. _Too _easy, Barnabas decided, ignoring his instincts and driving away. He would have to save it for the next night, he knew. It wouldn't be wise to intrude _now_; he needed to prepare. To calm himself. He already knew that the house would hold too many memories, and he didn't want to be held responsible for what he would do without the time to rest.

As Barnabas drove back through town, he managed to keep himself from any distractions, his curiosity about the town and its changes satisfied for the night. He hardly needed to pay close attention as he took the turn into the parking lot of the Collinsport Inn. After taking out his suitcase, he locked his car and walked up the steps and into the building, trying to be quiet, but his attempt at courtesy was foiled once he opened the door and the bells above the door jingled. Barnabas winced and closed the door, and he noticed that the man at the desk was fast asleep, his head leaning against his arm. Barnabas approached the desk as quietly as he could, his eyes falling to the bell on the desk as he set his suitcase on the floor.

The bell was incredibly close to the man's ear. Barnabas frowned, and he cleared his throat, making a gentler attempt at awaking him. The man didn't stir. He only sighed in his sleep.

It was then that Barnabas felt it: the horrible twisting sensation in his stomach. He reached out and gripped the edge of the desk as he lurched forward, and his other hand gripped the silver head of the cane that he carried. His eyes flicked to the man's neck. It could be such a clean kill. He could find other lodgings. The man was _clearly_ old and tired; perhaps Barnabas would be doing him a _favor_. No one would have to know about it -

Barnabas forced himself to be calm as he suddenly heard footsteps on the floor above him, walking to the staircase and then finally down it. He turned his head to see who it was, and he was greeted with the sight of a young woman carrying down a tray.

"...get wasted and don't know when to stop." Barnabas caught the tail-end of the woman's muttering and cleared his throat again, this time to get her attention. She stopped on the second-to-last stair, giving him a slightly-startled look.

"Can I help you?" she asked, taking the final two steps before coming to rest on the floor.

Barnabas smiled at her, still holding his cane tightly in his hand. "I apologize for my lateness," he said, "but I need to check in and it appears that this man is somewhat incapacitated." Barnabas chuckled slightly.

The woman peered behind Barnabas before breaking into a smile of her own. She shook her head, and Barnabas noticed her give a slight roll of her eyes. She said, "I'll be right with you, just let me set this down."

"Of course," he replied, but the woman was already walking past him, down a short hallway and into another room. She emerged a moment later and made her way behind the desk, awkwardly positioning herself so that she didn't disturb the old man, but could still check Barnabas in.

"Alright," she said, "What's your name, Sir?"

The woman tucked a lock of auburn hair behind her ear, and Barnabas felt his eyes drawn to the pulse in her neck, causing another pang in his stomach.

"Barnabas Collins," he said quickly. He averted his eyes, and they landed on the bell next to the old man. "Does this happen often?" he asked. Anything to distract himself. He braced himself and looked back up at her, noting that her eyes seemed to be trained on him, recognition dancing in them. She looked down at the man next to her and laughed, shaking her head as she typed on the computer nearby.

"Every night, nearly," she replied. "We don't usually get anyone this late."

Barnabas' eyes moved away from her and came to rest on the clock. It was almost 3:30 A.M. "Ah – yes, I'm afraid there was trouble on the highway. Traffic was backed up for ages."

She nodded and lifted a hand from the keyboard to cover her mouth as she yawned. "Completely understandable. Do you have an ID on you, Mister Collins?"

Barnabas froze before he reached into the pocket of his jacket for his wallet, pulling out a card and showing it to the woman. She seemed to be puzzled by it for a moment, but Barnabas acted unfazed. Of course, the picture was completely fake, done by someone with excellent image-editing skills that Barnabas had compelled before making his way to Collinsport. And it was slightly blurred for good measure.

The woman blinked before she nodded. "Alright," she said, and Barnabas noticed the hint of wariness in her voice. "Thank you, Mister Collins."

"Of course," he replied smoothly, placing the card back into his wallet and the wallet back into his pocket. "Are you always working this late?"

The woman nodded as she continued to input things into the computer. "Usually. I work the night shift so that I can stay with my father during the day." With a click of the mouse, she turned away from the computer and to a shelf behind her, pulling out a small envelope before turning back to Barnabas. "Here you are, Mister Collins, you're in room 306, and your key is inside."

Barnabas smiled and picked up his suitcase. "Thank you very much for being so accommodating, Miss...?"

"Oh – I'm sorry – I'm Maggie Evans," she replied with a tired smile. "You'll have to forgive me – I'm surprised I haven't nodded off myself. But feel free to call down here if you need anything."

"I will be sure of it. Good evening, Miss Evans." Barnabas turned away from the desk and began the trek up to the third floor, all the while trying to ignore the ill feeling in his stomach.

o o o

"David, make sure to tell your father and aunt that I'm excited for dinner tonight!"

David Collins' fifth grade teacher had tapped him on the shoulder just as the bell rang, holding him back as all of the other students stampeded out the door to catch their buses and other rides home. Even though she gave him a wide, happy smile, he said nothing, staring at her icily before he hoisted his backpack onto his shoulders and left.

Victoria Winters sighed and watched the little boy go, taking a seat on one of the small desks and crossing her arms in front of her chest. She didn't know why she had expected this time to be different; David had acted in exactly the same way to her previous attempts to be at least on good terms with him. Perhaps she had thought that maybe he had finally come to terms that she wasn't going anywhere – in fact, she was on her way to becoming closer to his family.

Maybe, had David actually responded favorably, it would have given Victoria some ounce of confidence for later that evening. Despite what she had said, it wasn't excitement that she felt, it was something closer to nervousness and sheer terror. What if she wasn't like her father? What if she didn't know as much? Mistook a werewolf for a normal, if not abnormally large dog? Without realizing it, Victoria had bitten her nails into jagged stumps on her fingers. With another sigh, she rose from the desk, grabbed her work for the evening and her purse, and locked up the classroom.

Driving through the streets of Collinsport didn't do anything for Victoria's nerves. She had too many thoughts rushing through her head to concentrate on a single one, and before she knew it, she found herself driving down a side street. She pulled into the driveway of a small, well-kept white house on a corner, and practically jumped out of her car to hurry up the walk and ring the doorbell.

Dressed in a t-shirt and sweats, a sleepy-looking Maggie Evans opened the door, but her attitude seemed to brighten once she saw Victoria.

"Vicki!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing here? Don't you have dinner with the Collinses tonight?" Maggie opened the door wider, but Victoria shook her head, motioning for Maggie to come outside.

"I'm a bit pressed for time," she explained. "There's so much to do at once, and... I was hoping you could help me get ready?" Victoria gave Maggie a hopeful smile.

Maggie bit her lip before breaking out into a grin. "It sounds great," she said. "Just let me check on Pop, and I'll be right there."

Maggie disappeared from view, leaving the door cracked open slightly, but a moment later, she was outside the door with her coat and locking the front door behind her. The two women hurried back to Victoria's car, and Victoria already felt better. At least with her friend there, she would be able to take her mind off the stress for as long as she could.

Maggie and Victoria chatted on their way back to Victoria's apartment, Maggie filling Victoria in on all of the interesting or amusing happenings at the Inn that had happened lately, ending with the two men who had gotten drunk the night before and practically held her hostage by talking too much.

"Oh! I nearly forgot," Maggie said as she got out of the car and followed Victoria to her door. "I got a rather interesting visitor last night."

"Did you?" Victoria replied, unlocking her door and holding it open for Maggie, who followed her in, removing her coat.

"I _did_. A Collins." A smirk crossed Maggie's face.

Victoria tilted her head to the side, giving her friend a questioning look. "Really?"

"Mmhm." Maggie tossed her coat on the back of one of Victoria's kitchen chairs. "I think he said his name was Barnabas. I was wondering why he didn't just stay at Collinwood."

"Barnabas..." Victoria repeated. She pondered the name for a moment before she shook her head, dropping her keys and purse on the kitchen table. "It doesn't ring a bell. Maybe he's not a member of the family. It _is_ a relatively common last name."

Maggie refused to give up, though. "No, you could _tell_. There was a distinct air of snootiness."

At that, Victoria couldn't help but let out a laugh. "_Maggie!_" she chided.

Maggie grinned. "I wonder if he came in for this dinner, too."

Victoria shook her head and turned away from Maggie, feeling a blush creep onto her cheeks and the nerves tickle her stomach once more. "I wouldn't think so. It isn't anything big." Victoria started to walk to her bedroom, and Maggie followed her until she stopped at her closet, looking at the dresses that she had picked out.

"You know, you never did tell me what this whole thing was for," Maggie said, taking a seat on Victoria's bed.

Victoria went still for a moment before shuffling through her clothes again. She stayed silent. She didn't have an excuse prepared for this question, and she couldn't exactly tell Maggie the truth: that she was being hired by the Collins family to help protect them from anything firstly supernatural and secondly harmful, especially a combination of the two. It was something her father had done, and her grandfather, and, as far as Victoria knew, the whole way down the line. There was no way that Victoria could spring that on Maggie without warning, so she pretended not to hear her.

"Vicki?"

Victoria dropped a hanger on the floor and knelt down to get it, effectively hiding her flustered expression. "Well, I'm David's teacher, aren't I?"

"So that's it?"

Victoria shrugged, putting the hanger back in its place. "I've known the Collins family ever since I was a little girl. Maybe they're trying to make me feel accepted, since I we haven't seen much of them since Dad died and I moved here."

"So what took them so long?" Maggie muttered, examining her fingernails.

Victoria shot Maggie a warning look. Maggie sighed and smiled, then got up from the bed to look at the clothes that Victoria had picked out.

"The black one's a bit much," Maggie said, picking the dress up by the hanger and handing it back to Victoria. "I say go with this white one."

Victoria frowned. "You think so? It's getting so cold out, and it's a summer dress..."

"So put a sweater with it." Maggie smiled and rolled her eyes, stepping past Victoria to pull out a lavender sweater. "See? It's fine. Now go try it on."

o o o

When Barnabas arrived at Collinwood, he sat in his car for a long time after cutting it off. He observed the house. For something that had been new and full of potential the last time he saw it, Collinwood now seemed gloomy and almost desolate. Barnabas grabbed his cane and stepped out of the car and made his way up to the front door, grasping one of the knockers in his hand and bringing it against the door three time. His acute hearing picked up a brief bit of shuffling inside before he was greeted to the sight of a teenage girl, blonde hair held back with a headband.

"Hi," she said, looking up at him with large blue eyes and flashing him a smile. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, actually," Barnabas replied. "Is Elizabeth Collins Stoddard home, by any chance?"

The girl nodded. "Yeah."

Barnabas tried not to frown. "I am here to see her. I'm a cousin," he explained. "From England," he added hastily.

"We have cousins in England?" The girl tilted her head to the side.

"Are you a relative of mine as well?" Barnabas asked. "My name is Barnabas Collins." He extended his hand to the girl, who opened the door a little wider in order to accept it.

"Carolyn Stoddard," she said with a slight giggle. "You should probably come in."

Barnabas happily accepted Carolyn's offer, and she shut the door behind him before dashing upstairs. He heard her calling, "Mom!" and tried to refrain from smiling. A moment later, she came back, leading a rather regal looking woman with dark hair down the stairs.

"He's our _cousin_," she said. "From England! Isn't that so cool?"

Elizabeth stopped at the landing and a slight pallor came over her face as she saw Barnabas. "Yes. Yes, it is. I wasn't aware we had any relatives from England."

Barnabas said, "I'm sorry to intrude like this. I was in New York on a business venture, you see, and I thought it a shame for me not to visit while I was relatively close."

Elizabeth was about to speak, but she was cut off by Carolyn's suddenly excited voice.

"Mom, can he stay for dinner? It's already such an affair with Vicki and everything!" She turned to Barnabas. "And we have room." She turned back to Elizabeth and said, "We have room, right?"

"I suppose, but -" Elizabeth began, but Carolyn was already helping Barnabas out of his coat, practically squealing about how exciting the whole thing was. Barnabas tried to conceal a smirk. He hadn't expected this to go quite so well.

o o o

Victoria stood outside Collinwood, drawing her sweater tighter around her as she inhaled deep breaths of the chilly October air. It wasn't doing much to calm her nerves, but she couldn't think of anything else _to_ do, other than review everything she knew about every paranormal creature and happening that she could think of. She knew she was being silly, that there wouldn't be a quiz, that she had her father's books and notes to look back on if she ever came up blank, but she wanted to be as prepared as she possibly could.

Besides, she was fifteen minutes early. What else was she going to do? She was unsure whether or not she could politely go in yet. Of course, she had been to dinners here before, but she had been with her father and brother. There had been no reason for her to worry about timing.

Eventually, Victoria decided that they would officially be expecting her, and she knocked on the door, ready for her trial to begin.

o o o

When Carolyn let her in, Barnabas felt time stop. Completely entranced, he watched her as she took off her coat and hung it by the door, dark brown locks tumbling over he shoulder. When she looked at him almost questioningly with wide green eyes, Barnabas felt the world fall away. He was at a complete loss for words. It was only when Elizabeth and her brother Roger appeared to greet the woman that time suddenly sped up again, needing to catch up to the current point.

"Barnabas," Elizabeth said, leading the woman over to him. "This is Victoria. Victoria, this is Barnabas."

"Hello, Barnabas."

"Victoria." The name felt wrong on Barnabas' tongue, but he took Victoria's hand and raised it to his lips, watching her cheeks color slightly.

"He's our cousin," Elizabeth continued, a slight hint of suspicion in her voice. "From England."

"It's wonderful to meet you," Victoria said.

It was then that Barnabas became aware that he was trembling slightly. He could only manage a nod before he excused himself to the drawing room, practically collapsing onto the sofa. He laid the cane next to him and tried to still his hands from shaking as one face, one name filled his mind:

_Josette._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Victoria barely had time to relax in the house before she began to be ushered out of the parlor. It turned out that she had chosen to show up just as dinner was about to be served. As she was being led out of the parlor, she noticed Elizabeth's eyes flick nervously toward the drawing room, where Barnabas had disappeared to a moment before. Victoria frowned and quickly peeked inside. Barnabas was sitting on the sofa with his back to her, and he seemed as though he were hunched over slightly, and she wondered if she should say something.

"Missus Stoddard," she started, turning to Elizabeth with a concerned look on her face. She inclined her head into the drawing room, indicating Barnabas without actually speaking.

Elizabeth looked into the room as well before gently guiding Victoria out of the doorway.

"Follow Roger," the woman said. Victoria watched Elizabeth walk quietly into the room before turning to hurry after Elizabeth's brother, who had held the door to the hallway open for her. She tried to smile at him, but he arched an eyebrow.

"You seem troubled, Miss Winters," he said. He peered behind him to check if Elizabeth was following before he closed the door behind him, starting down the hallway with Victoria.

"I'm fine," she replied too quickly. Victoria stopped briefly in the hallway grimaced at herself. Surely she was better at hiding her nervousness than _this._ She felt Roger's hand on her back and began to walk again.

"Of course, if it's the _job_ you're afraid of, you don't have to take it," Roger told her. Victoria frowned, picking up on a hint of what she could have sworn was _mocking_, and she had to stop herself from snapping at him.

"I'm not afraid," she said as they reached the dining room. It was a complete lie, of course, but Victoria hoped from the way she squared her shoulders and the pointed look she gave Roger, she at least _seemed_ more confident than she really was.

Collinwood's dining room never ceased to amaze Victoria. She had lost count of the times that she had been here, but she always seemed to be almost astounded at the size of it. She thought that she could probably fit almost three of her apartment bedroom into that single room, and she couldn't understand why they didn't split the dining room into two. All of the excess space seemed pointless to her. It became especially apparent once they were seated at the table, Roger across from her with David next to him, and Carolyn at her right. Even when Barnabas and Elizabeth arrived, they wouldn't even take up half of the long table.

Missus Johnson, the housekeeper, stood by the entrance to the dining room, a solemn expression on her face as Elizabeth did arrive, followed immediately by Barnabas. Elizabeth took her space at the head of the table, and Barnabas took the seat next to David after a moment of hesitation. Afterward, without missing a beat, Missus Johnson began serving dinner.

No one spoke.

Victoria tried to keep her head down as she ate, concentrating solely on her food instead of the distinctly awkward atmosphere in the room. As she took a bite of her meal, her eyes flicked up in time to notice Elizabeth cast Barnabas a curious, almost wary sort of look from across the table. In response, Victoria shifted her eyes toward Barnabas. She immediately looked back at her plate once she realized he was staring at her.

Roger frowned and cleared his throat, wiping his mouth with his napkin. "Barnabas," he began. "You said you're from England?"

Barnabas snapped out of his trance-like state, allowing Victoria to relax slightly, and he turned toward Roger as he finally began cutting into his food.

"I am," he responded. He raised his fork as though to take a bite, but instead added, "London, specifically."

"Is that so?" Roger grinned. "I've traveled there quite often myself. A wonder that we never ran into each other."

"Indeed, it is." Barnabas' lips almost twitched into a frown as he averted his eyes away from Roger, concentrating on his plate just as Victoria had been a moment ago. "Though, perhaps not entirely. I travel quite often myself. Sometimes it seems as though I'm at home less often than I'm away." He forced out a laugh, and Roger managed a chuckle, as well.

"What, exactly, is it that you _do?"_ he asked?

Barnabas didn't miss a beat. "I'm a writer."

"_Are_ you?" Roger nearly beamed; Victoria thought that he seemed impressed, and she looked over at Elizabeth, who still said nothing. Roger continued, "What have you published?"

This time, Barnabas did take a brief pause, though the manner in which he looked away from Roger made him appear merely humble. "Nothing of importance," he said. "In fact, thus far I've only been self-published."

Elizabeth put her fork down against her plate, the metal making a noise against the glass.

"You said that you had come from New York City on a business venture," she reminded Barnabas. "Might I ask what that business venture _was?"_

"Funny you should ask that _now_, Missus Stoddard," Barnabas replied with a charismatic smile. "I was talking to potential literary agents about my situation."

She responded, "Which is?"

"I brought some samples of the current book I'm writing, and rather than speak with them over the phone from London, I thought it best that I come to America. Besides, the setting _is_ rather closely based on Collinsport – or, rather, what I've heard about Collinsport through letters and such – I was planning a trip anyway."

"So, why wouldn't you just submit your book to publishers in England?" Carolyn spoke up from next to Victoria, and Barnabas turned toward the girl, his eyes lingering on Victoria for an instant.

"I did. I'm afraid to say that nobody was interested," he explained. "I thought that it wouldn't hurt to try my luck with an overseas market."

Roger nodded in agreement. "I don't see how it could have. I'm assuming you were right, of course."

"Yes, I was. I was lucky enough to receive an advance on the book, actually. Now all that's left to do is to finish it," Barnabas said with a chuckle.

"And so you came here," Roger said, "for inspiration."

Barnabas smiled somewhat sheepishly. "That's part of it. There's also the fact that there are no other members of the family left in England. Once I discovered that there were relatives in America that I could be close to, well – you see why I couldn't resist." The sheepish look turned charming once again, and it was almost possible to pinpoint the exact moment when most of the table fell under Barnabas' spell. Roger and Carolyn led most of the conversation from then on, and though Barnabas seemed a bit reluctant to reveal that much about himself, he responded with grace and class.

Victoria thought that he fit right in, and she could see how Maggie recognized him as a member of the family right away. She thought that he seemed nice enough, but she couldn't bring herself to contribute to the conversation at all. Every time he looked at her – which was far too frequently, in her opinion – a chill went down her spine and she felt her stomach sink. She busied herself with her drink – a glass of wine which Roger had poured, making the remark that she looked like she needed it – in an attempt to keep Barnabas out of her line of sight. If she didn't see him, she didn't have to see him _looking_ at her. It didn't help that his presence was keeping her from discussing her position with Roger and Elizabeth, either. Victoria didn't know whether to be relieved or not; on one hand, she was thankful to be able to put off the whole thing. On the other, it was just making her nervousness even worse.

"Why do you keep staring at Miss Winters?" David asked suddenly.

The conversation that Barnabas and the others were having abruptly stopped as the focus shifted to the little boy on Roger's left. He sat, a too-innocent look in his eyes while he idly played with his knife, to Roger's left. Roger reached over and took the knife from his son.

"David, what are you talking about?" Roger asked. Victoria heard him struggle to keep his voice under control.

"He keeps looking at her." David replied bluntly. He kept a high-pitched tone to his voice, clearly playing innocent. "I want to know why."

A look flashed across Roger's face that Victoria didn't recognize, but it dissolved into something akin to curiosity as he looked between her and Barnabas.

Barnabas cleared his throat. "I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable, Miss Winters," he said, and she looked up, meeting his eyes for the first time since they had been introduced. "If I am staring, it is only because you have an almost _uncanny_ resemblance to someone that I once knew."

There it was again. Victoria fought hard to suppress a shiver as Barnabas' eyes pierced hers, but she held his gaze and even managed a small smile.

She said quietly, "Well, I'm sure that a resemblance is _all_ there is. But – thank you." She glanced away. She wasn't sure if he actually _was_ complimenting her, but she thought it best to be polite about it regardless.

He didn't respond except to smile at her in return and turn his attention back to his plate, and Victoria did the same. The room went quiet until Roger cleared his throat and reached for the wine bottle, conveniently placed near him, and poured himself another glass. He didn't offer to do the same for anyone else at the table before he turned his attention to Victoria.

"I'm afraid we strayed _heavily_ from our original purpose," he said. "Aren't you here to discuss a job, Miss Winters?"

Victoria froze, but she managed a deep breath and placed her fork down as she looked up at Roger. He had the slightest hint of a smirk plastered on his face. She noticed that Elizabeth shot her brother a warning look, and had to fight to keep from looking at Barnabas; she couldn't believe that they were going to discuss this in front of _him_, but then again, he was a Collins. Perhaps he knew about every tradition that the family had.

"I am, Mister Collins," Victoria replied. Her hands dropped into her lap and she twisted her napkin, winding the cloth around her fingers and undoing it.

The smirk on Roger's face grew broader. "As David's tutor, if I'm not mistaken."

Victoria's eyebrows drew together in a brief, puzzled look, but it was quickly wiped from her face as she realized what Roger was doing. If she was supposed to be playing along, it wouldn't do for her to look too dumbfounded, so she simply nodded. "Yes, that's correct."

Roger leaned forward slightly, peering over the table. "Well, if you're done, would you mind accompanying me into the drawing room? That way, we can discuss the -" he hesitated ever so slightly. "_Situation."_

Victoria was all too ready to hear that, and she pushed her chair back a bit. When she noticed that no one else was moving, she looked where they did: to Elizabeth.

The woman wiped her mouth with her napkin and nodded. When she spoke, it was directed to Roger.

"That would be best," she said. Then, she looked over at Barnabas as she rose from her chair. "Mister Collins, while they talk, would you like me to show you the grounds?"

Barnabas' eyes seemed to light up. He replied, "I would love that," and stood up with her. Everyone else followed their lead, and Missus Johnson hurried about clearing the table. Victoria's attention moved back and forth from her to Elizabeth and Roger, wondering if she should help, but in a moment she was being led out of the dining room by Roger. David and Carolyn accompanied him.

"David," Roger said, looking down at his son as they walked down the hallway toward the foyer. "I want you to go upstairs and get started on your homework."

The little boy had his arms folded across his chest in a sulking manner. He looked up at his father.

"I don't _want_ her as my tutor, Father!" he whined. "She's already my _teacher._ Can't you get someone _else?"_

They reached the foyer, and Roger stopped in his tracks, pointing toward the staircase.

"I don't want to hear another word of it, David. Now – upstairs!" he demanded.

David stood still in the foyer as well before flashing a glare of pure malice toward Victoria. Then, he huffed and stomped off upstairs. The glare unsettled Victoria, but apart from a brief bite at her lip, she tried not to show it as she was ushered into the drawing room by Carolyn and Roger. Carolyn immediately plopped down on the sofa, and Roger made a beeline for the bar and the brandy that it held. Victoria was left standing somewhat awkwardly in the middle of the room.

"Vicki, sit _down,"_ Carolyn said. She laughed and rolled her eyes as Victoria, looking a bit sheepish, came and sat down next to her. "You don't have to act so formal, you know. You're practically family."

Victoria opened her mouth to respond, but Roger made his way over with a glass of brandy.

"Now, now, Kitten," he said. "Miss Winters is only trying to be professional, I'm sure." He took a seat in one of the chairs across from the sofa. He raised an eyebrow at Carolyn that the girl was quick to catch.

"Mother knows I'm sitting in!" Carolyn insisted. "I'm not a child anymore, Uncle Roger. I know what this is for."

Roger's eyebrows arched in surprise and he looked away from her, taking a sip of his drink as he turned his attention back to Victoria.

"Obviously, you aren't here to be David's tutor," he said with a light chuckle, and Victoria managed a smile.

"I should hope not," she replied.

Roger paused to take another drink of brandy before continuing. "I assume that your father filled you in on most of your duties?"

Victoria hesitated. "A few," she said. "I think he talked more about this with Peter, actually."

"Ah, yes, _Peter_ was supposed to take Dave's place, wasn't he?" Roger asked, and Victoria nodded. He added, "Studying, isn't he?"

"In England, yes."

"Well, I don't think that Dave _wouldn't_ have anticipated this; Peter was always very academically-minded, wasn't he?" Roger took another drink, and Victoria smiled fondly, nodding again.

"I'm sure that both you _and_ Peter got the information you would need, should it come to this. This is a dangerous job, and Dave Woodard wasn't a stupid man. He knew that things could happen unexpectedly." Roger drained the rest of the small glass of brandy. "If he didn't tell you what you need to know, then I'm sure you have the tools you need to find it out. And if you don't have _that_, you have instinct. Dave did, and so do you, Miss Winters. Your family has been doing this for ages – it's in your blood."

Victoria couldn't help the frown that crossed her face. "Peter and I are adopted," she said slowly. "We aren't Woodards, we're Guthries and Winters." That in itself was something that Victoria had always found odd. Yes, they were legally Dave's children, but, for some reason, he had never changed their surnames.

Roger waved his hand, brushing the thought aside. "A technicality," he said. "The bottom line is, I'm sure you know the gist of your duties."

"To protect the family should anything – _unnatural_ occur," Victoria said.

Roger smiled. "Exactly." He straightened in his chair and turned to Carolyn. "Kitten, could you go fetch Miss Winters' contract? It should be sitting on my desk in the study."

Carolyn hopped up from the sofa and walked out of the room, and Victoria heard her footsteps as they echoed in the foyer.

Roger sat in his chair, plainly observing Victoria, and she felt small under his gaze until she looked up to meet it.

"Do you know the – _chances_ of anything happening?" she asked.

Roger raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

She had to hold in a sigh. "The chances of anything _supernatural_ happening," she elaborated. "Mostly I'm just standing guard, in a sense. Right?"

Roger didn't respond for a moment, turning the empty brandy glass around in his hands. Finally, he said, "Mostly." He sighed. "But with this family, Miss Winters, you can never be too sure."

Victoria didn't respond, and a moment later, Carolyn returned with her contract and a pen.

"Here you go," she said, handing it to Victoria, and Victoria immediately began looking over it, trying to take in everything. When she reached the last page of the contract, she looked up. She hesitated before speaking, looking nervously between Carolyn and Roger, who had gotten up and was now pouring himself another glass of brandy.

"What do I do if someone dies?" she finally said, but her voice was much softer than she'd meant it to be. "_From_ something supernatural?"

Roger glanced over at her and answered immediately. "Then you've failed, haven't you?"

Victoria's eyes widened and Carolyn gasped.

"Uncle Roger!" she exclaimed.

Roger laughed as he approached the two. Victoria tried to think that she imagined the harshness in it as she looked back at the contract, and a moment later, she felt Roger's hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sure you'll be fine," he said.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before uncapping the pen and signing her name.

o o o

"And over there is the Old House," Elizabeth pointed out. She gestured with her hand to a building ahead of them, one that had plainly once been grand, but now sat, abandoned and run-down. It took a moment for Barnabas to speak as a pang of nostalgia hit him.

"Our ancestors once lived there, didn't they?" he asked, although he already knew the answer. In truth, he could have walked these entire grounds by himself if he had wanted to, but he knew that there was no way to let Elizabeth know that.

The woman nodded. "Yes, they did. How did you know?"

"Letters," Barnabas replied quickly. He turned away from her, pointing in the other direction with his cane as he walked ahead. "Up there. That's Widows' Hill, is it not?"

He paused and waited a moment for Elizabeth to catch up with him. When she did, she stopped next to him and nodded solemnly. A cool wind blew past them, and neither of them spoke. In a way, Barnabas was glad for it. The cliff had a sickening, eerie past about it, that much he knew all too well, and just being in a close proximity to it brought the memories back in full-force.

_The cold rain stung his cheeks as he ran after her, almost catching her as she tripped in the bushes, cutting and bloodying her feet. He slowed as she did as they approached the edge of the cliff. He tried to be quiet as he reached for her, begging, pleading with her to step away. She looked at him, wide-eyed and frantic, her hair dark and heavy with the rain, and her nightgown clinging to her form – still a vision of beauty even on the edge of death._

_Josette took another step._

_He screamed her name._

_She fell._

Barnabas snapped back out of the memory, reality washing over him like icy water. _Josette._ He nearly uttered her name aloud but stopped himself just in time, and her name was replaced with another: _Victoria. _Without another word to Elizabeth, Barnabas turned on his heel to head back to the Great House. Elizabeth called after him and hurried to catch up.

"I'm sorry, Missus Stoddard, I'm afraid I let time get away from me," he said, sparing the woman a glance. "It's late. I should go." He walked faster. If he was lucky, he might be able to catch Victoria before she left. The need to see her was overwhelming.

o o o

"Miss Winters."

Victoria, still sitting on the sofa, jolted; Barnabas had sneaked up on her. She turned to look at him. He stood in the doorway, still in his coat from his walk with Elizabeth.

"What is it, Mister Collins?" she asked.

"Please, call me Barnabas," he requested, and then his gaze moved to Roger. He cleared his throat before looking back at her. "I was hoping I might speak to you alone for a moment."

Victoria hesitated and took a glance at Roger, who only gave her the vaguest questioning look. Carolyn had taken out her cell phone and began fiddling with it. Victoria rose from the couch.

"Of course. It's getting late – I should probably leave, anyway."

"Then allow me to walk you to the door," Barnabas suggested.

She nodded and made sure to thank Roger for the evening, and she asked him to tell Elizabeth the same for her before meeting Barnabas in the foyer. They walked to the door together, and Barnabas took Victoria's coat off the rack and helped her into it. She bit her lip once she had her back turned to him; being that close to him gave her an odd feeling.

"I hope you don't think me too forward," he began, "but I hoped that I might be able to see you again soon."

"I'm sure you will be," Victoria said. "I'll be spending much more time here, now that I'm David's tutor. How long are you staying for?"

Barnabas opened the front door for Victoria, and they stepped out into the night together, Barnabas closing the door behind him. He chuckled.

"That isn't what I meant."

Victoria didn't respond except for a small, "oh." She looked down at her feet and shoved her hands into her pockets as the two of them walked down the driveway toward her car.

"You disagree," Barnabas said. They came to a stop beside Victoria's car and she looked up at him as she unlocked the door. She shook her head.

"No, of course not! I just – this is rather unexpected."

He smiled at her. "I'm afraid you've enchanted me, Miss Winters." He paused and she blushed, thankful that it was dark out. "Would you mind if I were to call on you? Perhaps this weekend? I could take you to dinner."

Victoria met his eyes again, and for a moment, she forgot to answer. For some reason that she couldn't explain, she felt drawn to him, as though a part of her mind weren't hers anymore. Barnabas didn't press her for an answer, but once she came to her senses again, she nodded.

"Yes. Yes, that would be wonderful."

"Excellent. I look forward to it." Barnabas opened up Victoria's door and she slid inside the car, letting him shut it behind her. She fumbled with putting the key in the ignition, but once she got it started, she was quick to turn the car around and drive away after waving at Barnabas.

She didn't have to look into her mirror to see him standing there; she could feel his eyes watching her as she drove down the hill.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

She really should have expected it. Looking back, Victoria realized that it was obvious in the way David kept eying her desk in what she realized _now_ was anticipation, but apart from singling him out to get his attention back, she didn't pay it any mind. The innocent smile and the perfect, angelic, "yes, Miss Winters," had unnerved her slightly, but at the same time, it was _David. _At ten years old, he was already a professional at that sort of thing. Victoria idly wondered whether it came with the territory, what with him being a Collins, or whether he had just won the lottery with that trait. Living in that spooky house had to have _some_ kind of effect on a boy that young.

Regardless, it had been a perfectly normal day in class until Victoria had made to dismiss them with the other fifth graders for recess. The children did as they were told, lining up in front of the door, as she unlocked one of the drawers in her desk to grab her whistle and a book to read...

...and she was promptly greeted by two mice in her desk. They squeaked and scrambled to get out, and Victoria screamed and jumped away from her desk. She covered her mouth and looked up as students started to ask what had happened.

"Mice are in my desk," she replied as calmly as possible.

And then the room exploded into panic.

There were a few students who tried to run, some little girls screamed, some scrambled onto their desks, and others still tried to run over her to see the mice for themselves. She tried to tell everyone to calm down and send the students back to their seats while keeping an eye on the two creatures in her desk. It didn't work very well. She looked up and saw that one person wasn't joining in the chaos:

David.

He stood leaning against the wall, his arms crossed and an expression that at first looked sullen, but when he noticed Victoria looking at him, he broke out into a wide grin.

That was enough to set her off. Even she was surprised at the force of her voice when she told her class to go back to their seats. She looked at the desk again, but her attention was directed to the floor. Somehow, the mice had gotten out of the desk and were shooting across the floor and under a bookshelf. She sighed in exasperation, but let them be. She figured that they would probably be better cowering under there until she could actually _do something_ about them. Victoria walked to the door and warned her class to stay put, saying that she was only going to get another teacher to watch them. And she did just that, returning a moment later with a second grade teacher whose students were at lunch.

"Missus Walsh is going to watch you while I talk with David," Victoria said, her eyes settling on the little boy in the first row. Victoria was almost surprised when he got up without a word of protest and calmly walked out into the hallway with her. She shut the door behind them, and when she turned back to him, he had that chillingly innocent look that he was so good at. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

David asked, "What do you want to talk to me about, Miss Winters?"

"David, do you know anything about the mice?" she asked. She had to make an effort to make sure that she didn't outright accuse him, and, for the first time, that aggravated Victoria, especially when she was absolutely certain that he was responsible.

Luckily, David didn't give her any trouble that day. He broke out into a wide grin. "They scared you! I knew they would."

"David!" Victoria exclaimed, her green eyes wide. She shook her head. "David, my desk was _locked_, and -"

"-and I picked it," David said. He shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest. "I read online about how to pick locks with paperclips. And you have a lot of those."

Victoria frowned. She knew that it wasn't her place, but she wondered if it might be worth talking to Roger about monitoring David's Internet usage. She shook her head again. "I don't understand why you would play such a trick."

"To _scare you,_" David replied, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. He rolled his eyes before glaring at her. What had been polite eye-contact up until this point suddenly turned into a stare-down. "Because I don't like you."

She sighed and brushed a lock of dark hair from her face that had fallen loose from her ponytail. "David, I don't know what you were trying to accomplish with this, but I'm going to have to call your father."

David averted his eyes to the floor for an instant before turning them back to Victoria. "_Fine,_" he said.

She could do nothing but shake her head and let him back into the classroom. She told Missus Walsh where she was going before stepping out of the classroom again. As she walked down the hall, she pulled her cell phone out of the pocket of her dress and dialed Roger's number. He picked up on the second ring, and Victoria took a seat on a bench against the wall.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Mister Collins?" she asked. She didn't even get a chance to begin to explain the situation before Roger began to talk again.

"Miss Winters. Oddly enough, I was going to call you myself. Later, of course, but what is it?"

Victoria drew her eyebrows together. What could he possibly have wanted to talk to her for? She couldn't think of a reason, unless it was about her _job._ She swallowed her nervousness and admitted, "It's David. He broke into my desk. To put mice in there."

There was a long silence on the other end of the line, and Victoria thought she heard Roger swear faintly. She heard him clear his throat. "And where is he now?"

"In the classroom. I told him that I was going to call you."

"He broke into your desk, Miss Winters. Precisely _why_ isn't he in the principal's office?"

"I – I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt." Victoria thought that her voice suddenly sounded small, and she felt a blush of embarrassment rise to her cheeks.

Roger sighed. "I'm afraid you're far too easy sometimes, Miss Winters." To Victoria, it sounded like a warning.

She waited to see if he was going to continue before she asked, "You were going to call me about something?"

"I think there might be a problem."

Victoria felt like her fear had been confirmed, but she tried to sound confident when she replied, "What kind of problem?"

"I – it's easier to explain in person, Miss Winters. After you're finished, would you mind terribly driving over here? I'd ask you to bring David with you, but, given the circumstances -"

"It's fine," Victoria said, but she closed her eyes. The last thing she really wanted was more time to spend with that demonic child. "I'll be there right after school gets out."

"Thank you," Roger said, and then he hung up. Victoria frowned and held the phone away from her ear. She muttered, "goodbye," before sighing and getting up from the bench.

What little was left of the school day went surprisingly quickly for Victoria, and before she knew it, she was watching all of the students stampede out of the door, just like any other day. She made a special point to hold David back, and he rolled his eyes at her.

"Your father asked me to bring you home," she said before the boy could get a word in. "He says that he's very disappointed in you," she added for good measure.

David said nothing, only huffed and waited with her in a sulky demeanor. When she locked up and left, he followed without protest, still looking very solemn. Victoria did catch a slight, wary look from him once they reached her car, though; and tried not to get flustered. Yes, it was old, and no, it certainly wasn't an expensive car like what he was used to, but there was no reason for him to act disgusted. David got into the car and Victoria sighed as she started it up; she needed to calm down. It was ridiculous for her to be intimidated by a ten-year-old's taste.

The ride to Collinwood was spent in near-complete silence. Victoria had tried to exchange pleasantries with the boy, but stopped after a few too many quipped, one-word answers. When they arrived at the estate and got out of the car, she sighed with relief, and was surprised to find Roger outside and waiting for them.

Roger looked sternly down at his son, who averted his eyes quickly. "Go inside, David," he commanded. "I'm going to have a talk with you later."

David opened his mouth to protest, but Roger's face clearly left no room for argument, so the boy sighed and headed toward the house, dragging his backpack on the ground behind him. Victoria watched him go inside before turning back to Roger.

"He didn't ask why you called me over," she commented.

"_Ah_," Roger responded. He clasped his hands behind his back as he began to walk, leading Victoria around the large house. "He knows that you aren't going to be tutoring him. He doesn't exactly know the _nature_ of your job, only that it would have been unpleasant to discuss it in front of Barnabas last night."

"I see." Victoria found herself wondering exactly what age was deemed 'acceptable' to learn about the supernatural side of the family, but was distracted when she heard Barnabas' name. She felt an odd feeling in her stomach and she blushed. When she looked back at Roger, he had quirked an eyebrow. She looked away again.

Victoria said quickly, "He asked me to dinner. Barnabas."

"I see," Roger said with a nod. There was a long pause before he asked, "And you think this – _wise?_ Fraternizing as such with the family you work for when you've _just begun_ working for them?"

"I -" She frowned, but she blushed again and looked down at her feet. Doubts began to creep up in her mind and she began to suspect that Roger might be right.

"You have a dangerous job, Miss Winters," he said. "It wouldn't do for you to get distracted in such a way."

Roger's words sent a pang of memory through Victoria; her father had had a similar attitude. It had made sense to her at the time, and it still made sense to her. It _was_ a dangerous job, and one that very few people truly understood. She remembered the way her father was regarded as an eccentric to anyone out of the family, how he had extremely few close ties – and who he did share them with were usually other doctors. A strange feeling overcame Victoria. Was she ready to give up such closeness and relationships?

She set her jaw. "You said you would tell me why you called me here," she prompted, changing the subject as quickly as she could.

Roger's attitude turned from inquisitive to grim. "Wolves."

"Wolves?" Victoria asked. "You mean _werewolves?"_

Roger shook his head. "No, no – the wolves are acting up." When he got no reaction other than Victoria staring blankly at him, he continued. "They're howling as though something has driven them mad. I'm sure you know _what_ causes them to carry on like that."

Victoria nodded. "Vampires," she said softly.

Roger nodded in response.

Victoria's heart began to beat faster, and a million questions filled her head. She didn't know if she was ready for this yet, but she didn't really have a choice in the matter. "Why are you telling me this?" she blurted out. "I thought that Missus Stoddard was to tell me if something was – wrong."

"Liz didn't notice," Roger said. "At least – if she did, she didn't mention anything."

"Don't you think that could be a sign?" she asked.

"Of?"

"That it's nothing to worry about. That it's just _wolves_ being – _wolves._" She gave Roger a questioning look, hoping that this was actually the case.

Again, he raised an eyebrow at her, and he stopped walking and turned to face her. "You don't think I would know the difference, Miss Winters? I've lived here almost my whole life."

Victoria blushed yet again and looked away from him. "I'm sorry, Mister Collins."

"Besides, even if I _am_ wrong, surely it couldn't hurt to take precautions."

"You're right." Victoria occupied herself with picking at her fingernails, and after a moment, Roger began to walk again. She hurried to catch up. "What time did you hear it?"

Roger took a moment to ponder the question. "About midnight," he replied. "I couldn't sleep, so I went downstairs for a glass of brandy. And that's when I heard it."

She nodded, trying to think through all of her options. She knew that she had to investigate, but where to start? Victoria's thoughts became muddled and she couldn't think clearly no matter how she tried.

"Does anything else seem out of the ordinary?" she tried, hoping to buy herself some time.

Roger frowned and shook his head. "No, not from what I've seen. Not _here_, at least."

Victoria stopped walking suddenly, an idea dawning on her. She could have kicked herself for not thinking of it before; it seemed so _simple_. "If there's a vampire, surely there would be drained bodies somewhere."

Roger gave her an amused look. "You don't think said vampire would be quite adept at hiding them?"

She bit her lip. He had a point, but she said, "I think we should look."

Victoria could swear she saw the hint of a smile on Roger's face as he decided to humor her, and they began to walk back the way that they came. They decided that they should drive along the back roads of the town to find any suspicious activity. Victoria had made the suggestion that, since no one had gone missing suspiciously, the likelihood that the vampire had taken a human was unlikely. She thought it made things easier on them; who would think twice about a dead animal lying on the roadside somewhere?

Still, they came up blank.

Victoria sighed and leaned back against the passenger seat, staring out the window.

"I never understood the connection between vampires and wolves," she admitted.

"It doesn't make much sense," Roger replied, glancing at her. "Unless, perhaps, they can sense them in a way that humans can't."

She smiled. "I suppose that's as good of an explanation as any." She gave Roger a glance in return. "You're not bad at this job, really. Maybe you should do this instead of me."

Roger chuckled, and Victoria allowed herself a slight giggle as well.

"Are you afraid?" he asked after a moment.

"A little," she confessed. "And understandably so. I can't say I was expecting to have to deal with something so early."

"_After_ having to deal with my son," Roger reminded her. "Believe me, I can imagine the stress you're under."

"Can you?" she asked. Then, she added quietly, "Was David always like this?"

Roger was quiet for a long moment, and Victoria was afraid that she'd overstepped her boundaries, but finally, he sighed and said, "No. It's fairly recent. Ever since his mother left."

"Laura," Victoria said.

Roger looked over at her, faint surprise showing on his face. "You remember her?"

"I was fifteen when you married her!" Victoria laughed in disbelief. "I was at your wedding. It wasn't _that_ long ago."

If Roger was amused, he didn't show it. "I suppose you're right. It feels like ages."

"I didn't know her very well, though," Victoria continued. "I only met her a few times."

He let out a harsh, bitter laugh. "You didn't miss anything, Miss Winters."

Victoria frowned. "You must have cared about her once." When Roger didn't respond, curiosity took over and she asked, "What was she like?"

"Beautiful," Roger answered immediately. He seemed lost in thought for a moment that Victoria became worried about his concentration on the road. "Honestly, I think that's the only thing in her favor."

"You were married to her for nearly nine years," Victoria reminded him. "What changed?"

His eyes flicked over to her, and he waited a long time before replying again. Then, he said, "Laura is insane, Miss Winters. Hysterical and suicidal and obsessive. Nothing _'changed.'_ She was always that way – I found out after we were married. I can't tell you how many times she tried to burn the house down." He frowned and shook his head. "She was put in a mental institution, and David and I moved back here."

"David must miss her terribly," Victoria replied, more to herself than to contribute to the conversation.

"David is far better off without her," Roger quipped. "Are there anymore questions, Miss Winters?"

She shook her head and quickly looked away from him, brushing loose hairs out of her face. They rode the rest of the way back in silence. Victoria wasn't sure whether to apologize or not. Every so often, her eyes would drift over to him, but he kept his on the road. She decided to keep to herself.

o o o

"I do hope I'm not intruding."

It was late, nearly eleven that night, when Barnabas had paid another visit to Collinwood. He sat in the drawing room with Elizabeth and Roger, clutching his cane. Roger glanced at him as he poured himself a drink; Barnabas had refused one.

Elizabeth said, "Not at all, Barnabas. You're free to visit whenever you would like."

He smiled. "I thank you for your courtesy." Barnabas looked away from Elizabeth and shifted almost uncomfortably on the sofa. "I have a proposal I would like to make."

"And that would be?"

"I was wondering if I might be able to move into the Old House."

Roger laughed loudly and joined the other two, drink in hand. "Whatever would you want to live _there_ for? It's been a wreck for ages."

Barnabas shrugged lightly. "I don't think it's anything that couldn't be fixed," he explained. "I feel that it would give me such inspiration for my writing – and, as I'm sure you know, the quicker I finish my book, the sooner I will be out of your hair."

Roger merely took a sip of his drink, but Elizabeth laughed. "You know you're welcome to stay as long as you need to. And I, for one, think it's an excellent idea." She glanced up at her brother.

Roger rolled his eyes. "I think it's a lost cause, personally." He looked back at Elizabeth and then sighed. It was clear that he wasn't going to win this. "But, of course, nothing is stopping you from _trying."_ He downed the rest of the drink quickly.

"Then it's settled," Elizabeth said, and Barnabas smiled. "In fact, our groundskeeper can show you the house tonight, if you'd like."

He had wanted to tell her that it wouldn't be necessary, but curiosity won out. "That would be wonderful," Barnabas said, but he hastily added, "if it isn't too much trouble."

"Of course it isn't." Elizabeth rose from her seat and walked to the phone, where she called the groundskeeper and asked him to hurry over. Roger watched her sternly before rolling his eyes and walking out of the room without excusing himself.

"He'll be over soon," Elizabeth assured Barnabas after she hung up. She sat back down, and soon enough, within ten minutes, they heard the front door burst open, and a young man came striding into the room. Something shot through Barnabas and he gripped his cane tighter as he observed the man. Scruffy, with messy, dark blond hair and baggy, wrinkled clothes, and the smell of cigarettes.

The feeling faded into bitter recognition for Barnabas, and it was all he could do to keep from launching himself at the man and killing him on the spot. Instead, he smiled thinly, almost knowingly at the man, and didn't loosen his hold on his cane.

"What d'you need, Missus Stoddard?" the man asked.

Elizabeth motioned to Barnabas. "Mister Collins is visiting from England, and he'd like to see the Old House," she explained. "I'd like you to show it to him." She turned to Barnabas. "Mister Collins, this is Willie Loomis, our groundskeeper. He just began working here a few weeks ago, but I'm sure he'll be able to tell you everything you need to know."

Barnabas smiled. "'Barnabas,' please," he said to Missus Stoddard, and then he turned to Willie. "A pleasure to meet you, Mister Loomis." Barnabas's expression turned icy, although he still smiled, and he took satisfaction when he saw a hint of fear flash across Willie's face.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Willie had to force the door open, and the floorboards creaked warningly when he walked on them, but when Barnabas crossed the threshold of the Old House, he once again experienced the feeling of time stopping. When he walked through the door, it was as though nothing had changed. Everything was still brightly painted as it had been over two-hundred years before. Candles were still lit, flickering in their holders, the flames' reflections glinting off of the freshly-cleaned crystal chandelier which hung from the ceiling. The banister of the staircase was nearly reflective, as well, having just been polished, and the dark red rug that trailed up the stairs looked as it had just been beaten. If he listened closely, he would have sworn that he could hear the hustle and bustle of the servants as they went about their business, and perhaps the faint laughter of children playing upstairs. It was when he walked into the drawing room that the illusion collapsed: the candles' flames were snuffed out. The house went dark. The curtains became tattered and the chandelier was crooked. Some of the chains and crystals were broken. Dust coated the furniture, floor, and mantle, and cobwebs hung in every possible corner. It was clear that no servants or children had entered the place for years.

But one thing in particular made Barnabas freeze: a portrait above the mantle. A portrait of a woman. A woman with dark hair and large, dark eyes. She sat, looking demure and pure and beautiful, and her perfection overwhelmed him. Barnabas had to look away. He turned to Willie, who was standing a couple of yards behind him, holding a flashlight. Barnabas thought that he looked like a man who was trying to appear overconfident to hide his cowardice. The thought made him want to laugh, but he managed to keep it to himself.

"It was once a beautiful place," Barnabas told Willie, breaking the silence. "It must have been."

Willie laughed hesitantly. "Pretty hard to tell now."

Barnabas smiled thinly. "Not particularly," he corrected. "Anyone with any knowledge about history would know, even just from the size of the house, not to mention the decorations and furniture. They weren't always so rusted and decayed."

"I ain't ever been too good at history," Willie replied, scratching the back of his head and mussing up his already-unruly hair. His voice wavered slightly as he asked, "Where'd you say you was from, again?"

"I didn't," Barnabas quipped, but after a moment, he answered, "I live in England, but I traveled here from New York City. Have you ever been there?" He turned away from Willie and let a cruel smile form on his lips. He ventured further into the drawing room, letting his fingers slide along an old desk that sat against one of the walls.

"N-no, can't say that I have."

Barnabas stopped abruptly, his hand still lingering on the desk as his eyes flicked to Willie. He knew the young man was lying, and he let his mind wander back. Once again, he heard the creaking of his coffin, remembered the way that something as faint as moonlight had nearly blinded him. He heard the frantic whispering of the boy and the girl, the way the boy had yelled when he pulled the girl down by the throat. The feel of her blood rushing into his starved body. The way that he had simply tossed her limp form aside and rounded on the boy. The boy's terrified screams and the pounding footsteps that Barnabas had disregarded as he pinned the boy to the wall and feasted on him, as well.

The terrified face, sheet-white face of Willie Loomis when he reached the room, and the way he sank to his knees before fainting.

Before Barnabas knew what he was doing, before he had finished reliving that moment, he was at Willie's side in a flash, and he reached out, pinning him to the wall by his throat. Willie managed a strangled cry, but Barnabas only glared and squeezed Willie's throat tighter.

"_Please,"_ Willie rasped. "I didn't – it was a dare – I -" The young man gasped for air and Barnabas found himself instinctively loosening his grip; he hadn't been expecting a confession. Willie took a few deep breaths before saying, "I didn't think there was anyone in there."

Barnabas continued to glare while Willie sniveled and let his eyes do the pleading for him. Then, after one final squeeze, Barnabas released Willie, who nearly collapsed to the floor.

"They were children," Barnabas muttered. He stared at the palms of his hands. He could still remember the way their blood had splattered on them.

"From the high school," Willie said, breath still coming in quick gasps. "I dared 'em to do it – was kinda like a hazing sorta thing – I didn't wanna hurt 'em, I swear – we were just tryin' to have a little fun -"

"_Fun?_" Barnabas spat, rounding on Willie, who cowered back into the corner. "I _killed them_. You saw what happened to them. What _you caused._"

"I didn't mean it!" Willie cried. "Look – I just – everyone knew some crazy old guy used to live in that house. Everyone knew he kept a coffin there for some reason. _We just thought it'd be fun if_ -"

"You were wrong."

Willie hesitated before continuing. "W-we just – we just thought that maybe if we could get 'em to open it -"

"You were looking for entertainment, and instead you have blood on your hands, Mister Loomis," Barnabas said. "I can't forgive you for that."

"I'm sorry," Willie whimpered. The young man wrapped his thin arms around himself.

Barnabas stared at the cowering man before him. It would be so easy, he knew, to end him right here, to make him pay for what he'd caused: the death of two innocent teenagers and the disorientation of a bloodthirsty vampire. He could have his head, Barnabas knew, and no one would know. He doubted if anyone would care, but there was something so pathetic about the way Willie was whimpering and near-sobbing. Barnabas regretfully felt compassion overwhelm him, and he turned away from the man.

"The house is perfect," he said loudly. And then a thought crossed his mind and he smirked; perhaps it was wise not to dispose of Willie just yet. He was clearly in debt to Barnabas for sparing his life, and Barnabas could see where it would come into play. "You'll start immediately."

Willie scrambled over to Barnabas. "What? You mean right now?"

"That would be the implication of 'immediately,' Mister Loomis."

Willie stuttered, "I – I can't start immediately, Mister Collins – I gotta get back to Missus Stoddard and the other Mister Collins – and my aunt – and it's late, and -"

Barnabas turned abruptly and grasped Willie firmly by both shoulders. He stared into Willie's eyes. "You will start restoring the house immediately," he said, his words clear and measured. He watched with satisfaction as Willie's eyes glazed over and his muscles relaxed, a completely neutral expression coming over his face. Barnabas smiled, impressed with his own work, but never broke eye contact. He continued, "I need a coffin built, Mister Loomis, and put in the cellar where no one will find it. And there is a book I need." He paused a moment, letting the information sink into Willie's mind before he said, "A book of spells – one used by a maid here over two centuries ago. Do you understand?"

Willie nodded slowly, and Barnabas released him. He nearly fell over, but managed to snap back up as he came completely out of his trance.

"What have I asked you to do?" Barnabas asked, his voice full of patience.

"Start work on the house," Willie said, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. "Build you a coffin. And – find a book."

"A book of spells," Barnabas repeated almost harshly. "The book is vital, Mister Loomis. The moment you find a possibility, you must bring it to me."

Willie swallowed hard. "Spells?"

Barnabas sighed. "_Yes."_

"I dunno, Mister Collins – I ain't callin' you crazy or nothin', but I dunno if I should be helpin' you with some crackpot scheme you got -"

Willie didn't get to finish. Before he could see Barnabas move, he had his teeth in Willie's throat.

o o o

Friday night, Victoria heard the knock on her door at eight PM exactly, and, although startled, she hastily opened the door. There stood Barnabas, dressed in a dapper black suit, holding a small bouquet of flowers.

"Barnabas!" she exclaimed, opening the door wider. She looked away from him and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "I wasn't expecting you quite so early."

Barnabas didn't enter the room. "We decided on eight o'clock, and I believe punctuality is always best." He smiled at her, and Victoria returned it.

"Come in," she said, gesturing with her hand. "I was just grabbing my purse..." Barnabas nodded and stepped into the apartment. She shut the door behind him. "I'm sorry if it seems a bit cluttered. Things have been rather hectic these past few days."

"I don't see a problem at all," Barnabas replied. He stepped in front of Victoria and made to hand her the flowers. "These are for you."

She tried not to blush, but she failed as she reached out to grab them. The flowers were a mixture, with carnations and daisies and tulips. She smiled at him, then hurried into the kitchen to find a vase under her sink. "Barnabas, you shouldn't have."

"I felt it only appropriate," Barnabas replied, his hands behind his back as he averted his eyes from Victoria, smiling. "I'm glad I did. They match your beauty."

Victoria was glad that she was facing away from him as she flushed a deeper shade of red. She pulled a vase from the cabinet and filled it up with water before unwrapping the flowers from their plastic and putting them into it. "There," she said. "They're lovely." She placed them on her kitchen table, and grabbed her purse from one of the chairs.

Barnabas offered her his arm. "Shall we?"

"Of course." Victoria said. She linked her arm with his and he led her from the apartment.

Conversation in the car to the restaurant was both polite and scarce, and Victoria couldn't shake the feeling of a strange kind of anticipation. She kept her hands in her lap, tightly clutching her purse, but Barnabas didn't seem to notice that anything was amiss as he drove through town. Or, if he did, he didn't mention it at all. She tried to calm herself as they pulled into the restaurant parking lot and Barnabas helped her out of the car. She remembered how much stress that she'd been under lately, and reminded herself that she was allowed to have fun tonight. There wasn't any reason for her to be nervous at all. Barnabas was a complete gentleman; he wouldn't allow anything to happen to her.

She took her own advice to heart, and after a couple of glasses of wine once they were seated, she was completely relaxed.

"You're a picky eater," Victoria observed with a small giggle. She took a bite of her meal: fettuccine alfredo with shrimp.

Barnabas managed a slight smile, hiding a grimace as he took a small bite of his steak, cooked rare. "I have a sensitive stomach," he said carefully.

"Oh! I'm sorry." Victoria took another sip of her wine. "Are you sick?"

"No, no, Miss Winters, it's nothing to worry about," he assured her. "I've been that way for quite a long time."

"I suppose in England, you have to prepare your meals specially," she commented. "Or do you have a cook to do it for you?"

He chuckled. "I prepare my own food," he replied.

She giggled. "I was going to ask how you would manage without someone to help you with it at the Old House. I didn't know if you were going to hire someone. Mister Collins and Missus Stoddard told me you were moving in."

"No, I'm sure I'll get along just fine," he said. He took another bite of his steak and began to move his food around his plate with his fork.

Victoria asked, "Have you worked on it much? It's probably a complete _disaster_ in there."

"It's much easier than you'd believe. I have Mister Loomis helping me."

Victoria frowned slightly in thought. "I haven't met Mister Loomis. Wasn't he just hired?"

"I believe so, yes. But he's quite a good worker, I have to say." Barnabas wiped his mouth and avoided Victoria's gaze.

She took another drink before she said, "I wish you would let me see it."

"The Old House?" Barnabas asked, faintly surprised.

Victoria nodded. "Yes! I'd love to see the progress you and Mister Loomis have made!"

"I wouldn't be so eager, if I were you. I haven't been working on it very long, you know. There haven't been many major changes yet."

She shook her head. "I don't care. I've actually never seen the house. To be honest, I've always wondered about what it's like in there."

He smiled broadly. "Then I shall be happy to show you."

o o o

Barnabas left the door open as he and Victoria entered the Old House, allowing a bit of light to shine in so that they weren't completely plunged into darkness.

"I'm afraid it hasn't been wired for electricity yet," Barnabas said. He felt his way over to the drawing room and to one of the newly-dusted tables where he picked up a box of matches. He lit the candles there, then continued throughout the room. "Though, I must say, I almost prefer it like this."

Victoria closed the door after all of the candles had been lit, and when she stepped back into the room, she gasped. "Barnabas – it's beautiful."

The room had indeed been repaired, the furniture cleaned, the chandelier repaired. A ladder stood in the corner of the room next to a crumpled tarp, but they were easy for Victoria to ignore as she stared around the room in wonderment. She turned to smile at Barnabas, to tell him how wonderfully he and Willie had worked, but she noticed that his attention was directed elsewhere. She followed his gaze up above the mantle. There, on the wall, was a portrait, but it was covered by a long cloth.

She asked, "Is there something wrong with it?"

Barnabas snapped out of his reverie and shook his head. "No, of course not. I didn't want it damaged while all the repairs were going on." He hesitated before asking, "Would you like to see it?"

Victoria grinned. "Of course! Just to get the full effect."

Barnabas gave her a small smile before reaching up and taking the cloth down, allowing Victoria to study the portrait of the woman with dark hair.

"Who was she?"

"Her name was Josette du Pres," Barnabas explained, his voice soft. It set Victoria on edge in an odd way. "She arrived here to marry a member of the family in 1795."

"She was very beautiful," Victoria said, turning to him. "Are you related to her?"

A strange look passed through Barnabas' eyes and he set his jaw. He tore his eyes away from Victoria and shook his head. "No. Josette died before she had any children. Suicide." He said the final word as though something had caught in his throat.

"Oh." Victoria could have sworn that a draft passed through the room, and she pulled her coat tighter around her, looking down at the floor. When she looked up again, Barnabas was looking straight at her. He approached her, and it seemed as though he would reach out to touch her, but he stopped himself.

"You do look quite a bit like her, Victoria," Barnabas said, his voice regaining the softness it had had a moment before.

Victoria frowned and looked back at the portrait. She couldn't see the resemblance. Josette's features seemed more defined, her hair darker, her skin paler, and her eyes a warm shade of brown as opposed to Victoria's green. Victoria thought that the portrait actually looked more like her friend Maggie, but she didn't voice her opinion. Instead, she said, "Thank you."

Barnabas only smiled, and after a moment, Victoria felt another chill. She looked away. "Is this all that you have done?"

He shook his head. "I believe that Mister Loomis began working upstairs earlier today. Would you like to see?"

She only nodded and didn't speak. As Barnabas left, she was quick behind him, wanting to leave the room as soon as possible. It gave her an eerie feeling that she couldn't explain. The stairs creaked as they stepped on them; Victoria tried to walk on tiptoe so that she wouldn't use all of her weight, despite the fact that Barnabas assured her that they wouldn't break. When they reached the landing, Barnabas noticed a light at the end of the hallway, and he frowned.

"I wasn't aware that he was still at work," he muttered, leading Victoria down the hallway toward the light. As they got closer, Victoria noticed that Willie was, indeed, still working, and had brought a few portable lanterns to give him some light. Barnabas stopped, and Victoria noticed him clench his fists at his sides. She instinctively took a step back.

"Mister Loomis," Barnabas projected.

Willie jumped and dropped his paintbrush. "M-Mister Collins," he stammered. "I didn't know you was gonna be back so soon -"

"I'm showing Miss Winters the improvements you've made," he said, and there was a distinct edge to his voice. His steps were slow as he entered the room, and his fists still weren't unclenched. Victoria hesitated before following him in. Willie's eyes moved over to her.

"Nice t'meet you, Miss Winters."

She was about to respond in kind, but Barnabas cut her off. "Why are you still here?" he snapped.

"I didn't know you didn't want me to be!" Willie insisted. "I thought maybe if I kept workin', we'd get it done quicker, you know?"

"And you picked _this room,_ Mister Loomis? Without asking my preferences?"

"I didn't -"

"It's a lovely room," Victoria cut in, and she stepped forward, for the first time taking in all of the room. Barnabas' eyes stayed on Willie until the younger man made a strange noise and picked up his paintbrush. He began to collect his things.

"It was hers," Barnabas told Victoria, finally turning away from Willie. "Josette's."

Upon hearing the name, Victoria froze, though her eyes continued to take in the elaborate room, the decorations and lace and frills. "Was it?"

"If the letters serve me correctly, then yes," he said. "I'm hoping to restore it – to replicate how it would have looked when she stayed in it."

Victoria forced a smile. "I'm sure it will be beautiful. It already is."

"Yes, of course." Barnabas smiled back. "It will probably become a guest room, as well. Perhaps you might stay in it."

Victoria felt Barnabas' hand on her back and her eyes snapped in his direction.

"You do look so much like her."

She stepped away, feeling the same chill that she had felt in the drawing room. She wrapped her arms around herself.

Barnabas said, "I apologize, I was out of line."

"It's late," Victoria replied quickly. She turned around. She looked at Barnabas for a split second before avoiding him again, her eyes landing on Willie instead. He was still kneeling, closing his can of paint, and the light fell in such a way on him that it illuminated his neck.

Victoria could see the marks clearly: two dark and bloody and barely-healing puncture marks on the side of his throat.

Her blood ran cold and her hands began to tremble as she clutched her purse. "It's late," she said again, trying to keep her voice from shaking. She swallowed hard. "I – I need to leave." She walked quickly out of the room, forcing herself from breaking into a run until she reached the staircase, despite Barnabas' loud protests. She ignored them, taking the stairs two at a time, clutching the banister to keep from falling. She reached the landing and threw the door open, slamming it behind her as she tried to get away from the house as quickly as she could.

Victoria managed to sprint a few yards before her the heels of her shoes got stuck in a soft patch of grass. She cried out in frustration before taking off her shoes and carrying them, going the rest of the way in stocking-feet. It slowed her down, and she was sure that she was slicing her feet up on twigs and tree roots, but terror drove her onward. She tried to relax a bit, remembering the path from here to the main house from the time she'd spent there as a child, playing in the sparse woods with her brother and Carolyn. Still, once the front door of the main house was in her sights, she mustered up the rest of her strength and dashed the rest of the way, practically stumbling over the stoop and knocking frantically on the door. She dug her phone out of her purse and called the house as she continued to knock, and all the while, she kept looking over her shoulder to make sure that she hadn't been followed. When nobody answered, she resorted to yelling. Anything to keep her focused on the task at hand, anything to keep her from breaking down in fear.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Victoria lost track of how long she had been beating on the door of Collinwood, and she was vaguely aware that her voice was wearing thin. Every moment that passed without an answer only increased her paranoia. She looked over her shoulder for the millionth time, nearly certain that Barnabas really was standing there this time, and she didn't hear the door creak open. When she turned back around and saw Roger standing in the doorway in pajamas and a robe, she nearly screamed. Luckily, she covered her mouth just in time, but it didn't stop the feeling that her heart would explode out of her chest.

"Miss Winters, are you aware of the hour?" Roger asked, a definite irritability present in his voice.

Victoria shook her head and tried to speak, but no words came out as she tried to catch her breath. She gestured vaguely in the direction of the Old House and finally managed, "The vampire."

Roger stared blankly at her before finally shaking his head and rubbing his eyes. He motioned for her to come inside, and she quickly did, letting Roger shut the door behind her. Victoria didn't bother to take off her coat, instead drawing it closer around herself. Her eyes darted around the foyer of the house as though she expected Barnabas to jump out of any of the dark corners. She almost actually did.

She gasped and jolted as she felt Roger's hand on her shoulder, gently pushing her into the drawing room. He stopped and looked at her, puzzled.

"Something certainly has you wound up," he observed as they began to walk. "What's so urgent that you couldn't be bothered to call? Or wait until morning?" Although no one else was around, once they were in the drawing room, Roger shut the heavy wooden doors behind them.

"_The vampire,_" Victoria repeated, staring at Roger in a dumbfounded manner. She shook her head again. "We went looking for him earlier this week, but we didn't -"

"Yes, Miss Winters, I am aware," Roger replied testily. He sat down on the sofa beside Victoria. "What _about_ the vampire.

It took her a moment to answer as she caught her breath and tried to stop her heart from racing. She slumped in her seat slightly. "I think he's here," she replied quietly. Her eyes began to dart around again.

Roger's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I think – no – he's _here_, Roger. I know it," she said, giving up all politeness. She tried to explain her encounter with Barnabas and Willie just moments before, but her thoughts were too jumbled, making her story practically incoherent. Roger sat and listened to her, trying to decipher it, but he shook his head.

"You've no proof that Barnabas did it," he pointed out.

"Then where did Willie get the marks from?" Victoria demanded.

Roger sighed, rose from the sofa, and walked over to the decanter of brandy. He poured a glass, but not for himself. He walked back and handed it to Victoria, who accepted it without a word, staring at him expectantly.

"I didn't say that there _wasn't a vampire_," he said, "I said that you'll have to find a way to better convince me that Barnabas is the culprit. I understand that my cousin is a rather _eccentric_ individual, judging from what I've seen of him, but, again, you've no proof."

"But he..." Victoria trailed off and drained the small drink. As she finally began to calm down, she began to see the logic in what Roger had said. Perhaps she was overreacting. "There's nothing that I can really do tonight, anyway," she said, and she turned to look at him. "Is there?"

He shrugged. "I suppose there's not. You're far too worked up to do anything effective, at least."

Victoria frowned as she set her glass on the table. Was she supposed to take that as an insult or a concerned comment? Either way, she sighed, leaning back in her seat.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I should've thought this through before I woke you."

Roger gave her a pointed look before rubbing his eyes. "At least you're thorough, I suppose."

She managed a small smile before suddenly jumping up from the sofa. "I should let you get back to sleep," she said, a flush of embarrassment rising to her cheeks.

Roger rose with her. "How will you get home?" he asked.

She said, "I can call a cab."

"Will you be all right alone?" he asked. He didn't wait for her to answer the question before he motioned for her to follow him. He grabbed the keys to his car from the table in the foyer and put on his coat over his robe before slipping into a pair of shoes. "I'll drive you."

"That really isn't necessary -" Victoria tried to say, but he continued to insist, and before she knew it, they were on the road back to her apartment. It was a quick trip, and soon he pulled up beside her building.

Victoria went for the handle of her door, but Roger said, "Do I need to have a word with Mister Loomis?"

Victoria paused for a moment, but then shook her head. "No," she replied. "I'll do it. Once I figure out the best way to approach this." She laughed nervously, then opened her door and got out of the car. She was just about to close the door when Roger spoke again.

"Miss Winters," he said, "at this rate, I would watch my step around Barnabas"

She frowned. "But you said earlier that there was no proof -"

"There isn't. But I never ruled out the possibility."

She tilted her head to the side in confusion before smiling slightly. "Thank you," she said, and finally closed the door. She hurried up the walkway to her door, and noticed that Roger didn't pull away until she was inside.

o o o

"Can I ask you something, Maggie?"

The next day, Victoria met Maggie for lunch at a quaint coffee shop downtown. The matter had been on Victoria's mind all night, and what little sleep she'd gotten had been filled with images of Willie's neck, growing more gruesome and bloody the later that it got.

"Sure," Maggie said after a bite of her sandwich. She wiped her mouth. "Is something wrong?"

Victoria hesitated. She put another packet of sugar into her coffee and sighed. "Kind of. It's – do you promise you won't think I'm crazy?"

Maggie laughed. "You should hear some of the stuff Pop comes up with after a night at the Blue Whale, and he's perfectly sane," she said. "Come on. How bad can it be?"

Victoria let out a little, nervous laugh before she took a deep breath and said, "Do you believe in vampires?"

Maggie set down her sandwich and stared at Victoria. "You're gonna have to explain that one."

Victoria looked off to the side and then back at Maggie. She hadn't thought her question was so hard to comprehend. "Vampires," she repeated. "Sleep in coffins, have fangs, drink blood, burn in the sunlight? You know."

Maggie shook her head. "They're stories, Vicki," she said.

Victoria opened her mouth to argue, but realized that there probably wouldn't be any reasoning with Maggie. Instead, she said, "I think there might be one here."

"_Vicki,"_ Maggie said, "Did you eat something weird on your date last night? What's gotten into you?"

Victoria shuddered from the memory of the evening before, but then launched into her tale, making sure to emphasize Willie's odd behavior and the wound on his neck. She considered telling her about Barnabas and the portrait of Josette, who resembled Maggie ever-so-slightly, but didn't follow through with it.

Maggie remained unconvinced. "You said he's a handyman around Collinwood?"

"That's what I was told," Victoria replied. "I'd never actually seen him before."

"Couldn't have been some kind of work-related wound?" Maggie asked. Then, she added carefully, "Really, Vicki, _vampires_?"

Victoria set her jaw and argued, "What could he have done to result in two puncture wounds on his _jugular_? He would have been _killed_ – or, at least, very nearly."

Maggie sighed. "I don't know, Vicki, but I'm honestly more willing to accept that he got attacked by a possessed drill than a vampire."

The conversation ended there, with neither side winning the argument. When Victoria went back home, she called Collinwood to see if anyone had seen Willie, but he was nowhere to be found, and she was told that he hadn't been seen for a few days now. It was just her luck, Vicki thought. If he was going to be so hard to track down, she would have to come up with some sort of plan to get a hold of him – without Barnabas' interference.

o o o

Willie Loomis jolted awake when he heard Barnabas' cane smack against the door-frame.

"You should be working," Barnabas reminded him, raising his voice. "The house is nowhere near complete."

"Y-yes, Barnabas." Willie flinched and scrambled off of the sofa, launching himself at the tools he kept nearby. Barnabas watched him for a moment before stepping into the room as Willie turned on one of his lanterns.

"You frightened Miss Winters last night," he said. "She didn't come back."

Willie paused, his eyes shifting in Barnabas' direction before he continued shuffling through his toolbox. "You didn't catch up with her?"

"No, Willie, I did not," Barnabas snapped. "If it weren't for you, perhaps I might have convinced her to _stay." _He took a step closer.

"I didn't do nothin'!" Willie insisted, holding his hands up in defense.

"She saw your neck, Willie," Barnabas roared. He jabbed his cane at Willie, making the younger man wince. "Can you blame her for jumping to conclusions?"

Willie said nothing in response. He only crouched lower and pulled up on the collar of his shirt in an attempt to hide the marks. Barnabas rolled his eyes.

"The coffin is acceptable," he said. He turned on his heel away from Willie and marched to the bookshelf. "Where have you put the spellbook?"

"I ain't found it yet," Willie mumbled.

"_What?"_ Barnabas spun back around to face Willie, rage written all over him. "I _told you_ that the book was urgent and that it needed to be found immediately. _Why_ have you disobeyed my orders?"

"The house!" Willie replied, gesturing at the space around him. "I thought – after the house was done – then we'd -"

Barnabas grit his teeth and glared down at the young man on the floor, at that moment wanting nothing more than to crack his cane over his skull. But he resisted, instead jabbing Willie in the shoulder with it, making him whimper.

"You thought wrong," he said lowly as he began to walk away. "I am in need of the book far more than the house, Willie. Perhaps take _that_ into consideration." He spared Willie one more glare as he walked across the room and took a seat at the desk in the corner. He had no idea what for, but he let his hands move around the desk and drawers of their own accord. He needed a distraction, and an idea came to mind when he realized he had pulled out a sheet of paper and a pen.

_My dear Miss Winters_...

"What'cha writin'?" came Willie's voice from behind Barnabas' shoulder.

Barnabas sighed impatiently. "I'm attempting to write a letter, Willie," he snapped. "An apology to Miss Winters."

Willie muttered a weak, "oh" before going back to his work, and Barnabas turned back to the pen and paper. He took a moment to ponder the letter before letting the words flow freely.

_My dear Miss Winters,_

_It is with displeasure that I recall how I acted last night. My behavior was entirely out of line, perhaps brought on by our dinner, and (though perhaps I am again too eager) the sheer euphoria of being close to you. I am afraid that I have acted out of turn and embarrassed myself, and so I feel it only appropriate to issue this apology._

_If I should be permitted to see you again, I assure you that nothing of this sort will happen again. I must learn to think before I speak around you. In all actuality, it appears that I have quite a bit to learn from you, Miss Winters. _

_I do hope that we can meet again soon. The house should be more in order before long, and hopefully Willie's wounds will have healed. He apologizes to you as well, explaining that they are from a work-related accident that he should have taken better care of._

_Awaiting your reply,_

_Barnabas Collins_

Barnabas' eyes carefully scanned the letter before he folded it up and put it into an envelope, which he wrote her name on with a flourish. He then called Willie over and handed it to him.

"I want you to to give this to David, Roger's son," Barnabas told him.

Willie frowned, glancing at the envelope. "It says it's for Miss Winters."

Barnabas rolled his eyes. "_Yes_, it does. I feel that it would make its way to her easier this way. Miss Winters is David's tutor, after all."

Willie gingerly took the letter from Barnabas' hand. "Right now?" he asked.

"Right now."

Willie frowned. "Can it wait until I finish nailin' up some shelves? And lookin' for that book? 'Cause -"

A narrow-eyed glare from Barnabas was enough to cut Willie off and make him do as he was told. He quickly shuffled out of the room, letter clutched in hand.

o o o

"Now, you're gonna give that to Miss Winters when you go to school, right?"

David Collins stood in his pajamas in the foyer with Willie Loomis, holding Barnabas' letter in his hands. He looked at it with slight disgust.

"School isn't till _Monday_," the boy said.

"I know," Willie said, "but Barnabas said that he wanted you to hold onto it. And then give it to her. On Monday."

David stared blankly at Willie. "Why can't he just give it to her himself?"

"Well – uh -" Willie took a moment to ponder David's question. "He can't get a hold of her. And he doesn't know her address, so he can't send it to her."

"Can't he just _call_ her and _tell_ her what it says?"

"There ain't a phone in there yet," Willie said, glad that he already had an excuse for that question. "Now, David, can you please do like I asked? Mister Barnabas will be real angry if you don't."

David thought about the request for a moment, pulling at the crinkled envelope with Victoria's name written on it. He didn't like Victoria, so naturally any unnecessary contact with his teacher wasn't what he wanted. Then again, he didn't have anything against Barnabas, and if his father found out that he had disobeyed, he would surely be in quite a bit of trouble.

He sighed and said, "I guess."

"Great," Willie replied, breaking out into a wide grin. He ruffled David's hair, making the boy grimace, and headed to the door. "Hey – tell your dad and aunt I said hi, will you?" And with that, Willie left, leaving David standing sulkily in the foyer.

David looked back at the letter, still with the grimace on his face, and when he looked away from it, his eyes caught on one of the lights that adorned the wall: candle-holders, and inside were fake candlesticks with light-bulbs. He looked from the letter to the light several times as though he were contemplating an idea, and then he crept into the drawing room after making sure that no one was coming. He walked over to the piano, where a real candle sat next to a pack of matches. David sat the letter down as he picked up the matches and careful struck one, standing up on his tiptoes in order to light the candle's wick. He waved the match out as he looked at the letter again, and he couldn't help but smirk to himself. He'd been silly; his father didn't need to know that Willie stopped by. If Barnabas didn't get a reply, surely he'd blame Victoria and not David. He picked up the envelope and looked back at the candle, but hesitated slightly. Something about the flame flickering in the otherwise-near-darkness almost hypnotized the young boy. He felt himself relax as he stared into the bright light, and then, without fully realizing what he was doing, he started to lift the envelope toward the flame. The fire almost caught the corner of the letter when David jolted. Something made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and sent a chill down his spine. He turned around, his mind already coming up with explanations to tell his father, but there was no one standing there. David frowned, but then felt the prickling feeling again, the feeling of someone watching him still coming from behind him.

There was still no one there.

David's palms were starting to sweat. He swallowed hard, and despite the fact that the room was empty except for him, he tried not to show how unnerved and afraid he was. He placed the letter down on the piano before creeping toward the heavy red curtains by the window. He looked behind them. Nothing. He spun around the room, trying to detect an intruder from any angle, but nobody was to be found. David let himself let out a long breath, but he didn't feel any more relaxed as he stood on his toes to blow the candle out, casting the room into darkness once again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

It was obvious in school that David thought that he was being sneaky, but in reality, he was just the opposite. It was just another fact brought to light the next Monday at school. Victoria was already frustrated by her less-than-attentive group of fifth graders, and she noticed that David seemed to have his eye on something in his desk. He stopped fiddling with it for a few moments when she passed out a worksheet for the class to do; he finished it quite quickly, and then went back to whatever was in his desk. Victoria frowned, getting up from her desk on the pretense of checking their work. She was right behind his desk when she saw it: an envelope with her name written quite clearly and elegantly on the front of it. She watched as David turned it over in his hands, his fingers hovering over the sealing as if he were contemplating opening it. She sighed and crept up behind him and kneeled next to his desk. He was quick to glare at her and he shoved the letter back into his desk. Victoria peered up at his worksheet.

"Done already?" she asked quietly, not wanting to disturb the other students.

David nodded once, curtly, and Victoria let her eyes look into his desk. The letter was in plain view, its corner sticking out from his desk.

"What's this?" she asked, and she tapped the letter twice with her fingertip.

David shrugged and tried to push the letter further into his desk, but Victoria was quicker. She grabbed it.

"You've been messing with this all day, David," she chided gently, turning the letter over. "Why does it have my name on it?"

The little boy shrugged again, and Victoria said his name more firmly.

He sighed. "I was gonna give it to you before school," he muttered, "but I forgot."

Victoria arched an eyebrow. She asked, "Where did you get it?"

"Mister Loomis came over last night and asked me to give it to you."

Victoria tensed at the mention of Willie.

"You saw him?" Her words came out more urgently than she meant them to, and earned her an eyeroll from David.

"_Yes_," he said.

"How was he? Did he seem alright to you?"

"I _guess_," David sighed. "Does it_ matter?"_

Victoria caught herself before she snapped at the boy. Instead, she said, "I only wanted to make sure," before standing back up and finishing her round through the room, the letter clutched tightly in her hand. When she made it back to her desk, she hesitated before opening it. If Willie had delivered it the night before, it could really have only been from one person: Barnabas. Victoria felt a chill go down her spine and impulsively looked over her shoulder as she thought of the man, but then felt foolish. She took a seat at her desk and let herself open the letter. Her eyes skimmed over the elegant handwriting once, twice, three times before she calmly folded it up and set it on her desk. And then she picked it up and moved it into a drawer. Then, she sat in her chair, her hands folded neatly in her lap as she tried to collect herself, to stop herself from panicking.

He wanted to see her again. She knew that he would probably mention it, but she wasn't expecting it to be so _soon. _Victoria had thought that she might get at least a few more days of peace before having to deal with Barnabas again; clearly, she had been wrong. And that was when her mind began to race for some solutions. Should she go and see him? Victoria rejected that option immediately. There was no way that she was going to go see him alone in the near future, and she didn't think that he would take too kindly to her bringing a companion along for protection. Though she knew she was terrified of him, Victoria couldn't say that she was eager to hurt his feelings. He didn't have a phone, so she couldn't call him, and the only option left was to write a letter in response. She looked at the cup of pens that sat on her desk. Just a few sentences would do, she was aware. She could have done it right then, done before her students were finished with their busy-work.

Victoria took a deep breath and leaned back in her desk chair. She decided to wait. She knew that if she started a response now, without a plan, she would ramble on, making up some absurd reason as to why she couldn't – or, rather, wouldn't – come visit for the time being. No, she needed time to think on it. Time to make it succinct, yet still pleasant. She wasn't entirely sure how she was going to accomplish that and keep him from getting suspicious, but she had to find a way to.

Or did she?

Victoria furrowed her brow as the wheels in her head began to spin. If she were to accept Barnabas' invitation, that would give her at least a chance to see Willie, to question him. Since he had been so hard to reach the past few days, she wasn't sure that she should pass this opportunity up, regardless of how afraid she might have been of Barnabas. She knew that all she really had to do was carry a stake and a cross in her purse in case things took a turn for the worse...

The whole idea of it made Victoria's stomach twist, making her feel ill. She glanced at the clock and let out a gentle sigh of relief once she realized that her students' time was up. She smiled and clapped her hands together.

"Alright, class," she said, getting up from her desk and heading to the front of the classroom. "Switch papers – we're going to check it over."

o o o

But once recess came and Victoria didn't have the children to distract her, her worries cropped up in her mind once again, and she began to debate over what to do. She knew what she _should_ do: go to Barnabas under the pretense of forgiving him, but really interrogate Willie. But Victoria could feel the butterflies form in her stomach and her palms become sweaty already. Not for the first time, she began to wonder whether or not she really was suited for this job. She wasn't good at lying or being forceful or any of the things the job seemed to require; it had sounded much easier in theory. She was nearly certain that her father had never had to deal with things like this. Victoria fished her cell phone out of her purse and stared at it, debating whether or not to call Roger and ask what she should do. But she sighed and shoved it back. She needed to stop relying on Roger for all the answers to things like this, she knew. She was supposed to be the professional in this situation, whether she liked it or not. Roger was supposed to be the person who came to _her _for answers, but in some strange way, it had become the other way around. She'd gotten too much help from him already.

All of a sudden, Victoria heard her phone rang, and she jolted slightly before reaching into her purse to dig it back out amidst odd stares from the other teachers. She pressed the button to take the call and walked a few steps away from them.

"Hello?"

"Vicki!" Carolyn greeted her from the other end. "I was worried you wouldn't pick up. I know you're at school."

"Yes, I am," Victoria replied. "I'm just about to bring the children in from recess, so maybe -"

Carolyn cut her off. "Wait until I have to tell you! Vicki, I'm so excited."

"What for?" Victoria asked curiously.

"Oh, it won't be half as much fun if I tell you over the phone. You know what? You should come over right away!"

Victoria laughed hesitantly. "Carolyn – I just told you – I'm still at school."

"But I bet the kids would be happy to get a sub," Carolyn pointed out. "Besides, you're at recess, so there's what? An hour and a half left?"

"Yes, and that's why it would be pointless to request a substitute from the office," Victoria explained. "Whatever it is, I'm sure it can wait until I'm done."

Carolyn let out a disappointed sound. "Fine. But you'll come right over, right?"

Victoria laughed again. "I promise."

"Great! I'll see you then!" Carolyn hung up, and from the sound of her voice, Victoria could imagine the blonde girl bouncing in glee. She ended the call and stuck the phone back into her purse and went back to join the other teachers.

o o o

Victoria knew that Carolyn hadn't asked her to give David a ride home, and, as he sat sulkily as usual her passenger seat, she wondered vaguely if she should have. At the same time, though, she thought that it wouldn't have been fair to make him take the bus, since they were going the same way. And she thought that it had to be better than riding a loud, cramped school bus. Idly, Victoria realized that she didn't even know how far that David had to walk to and from the bus. Ideally, the bus would have dropped him off and picked him up at the bottom of Collinwood's driveway, but it still would be a decent walk for the boy. And Collinwood was so oddly placed as well, with all the trees surrounding it. If you didn't know the driveway was there, surely you would miss it. Victoria didn't pity David, but she didn't voice any of this as she drove him home, instead trying to guess what Carolyn had thought was so urgent. Certainly it wasn't anything bad, seeing as she had been so excited about it, and, to be honest, that left Victoria with absolutely nothing to work with. She knew she would find out very soon, though, as she finished the drive up to the house and parked the car.

Carolyn was there to meet them at the door, and she blinked in surprise when she saw David.

"I didn't know you were bringing him home," she said.

Victoria smiled and replied, "I thought I would, since I was coming this way."

She didn't miss the wary look that Carolyn gave to her little cousin, but Carolyn was quick to bounce back. She said, "Okay – I've got Mother and Uncle Roger in the drawing room, so you'd better hurry. They're getting impatient."

Victoria shook her head, but she laughed. "Carolyn, what is it?"

Carolyn scuttled to the drawing room doors and motioned Victoria inside. "That's what I'm about to tell you!" she said, and hesitated before going in herself. She looked down at David and then sighed before giving him a gentle push into the room. "I guess you can hear. You'll find out before too long, anyway."

Victoria stood waiting, with both hands in front of her clutching her purse, as Carolyn and David stepped inside and Carolyn shut the doors. She noticed Elizabeth and Roger sitting on the sofa, and greeted them quickly.

"Carolyn hasn't told us what this is about," Elizabeth said, as though she had read Victoria's mind, and she turned her attention to her daughter. "I hope nothing's wrong."

Carolyn opened her mouth to start, but Roger interrupted her before she could begin. "Kitten, you didn't even give her time to take her coat off."

Victoria smiled. "It's alright," she said, and she took a seat in one of the chairs. She felt awkward for a moment, wondering if she should have asked, but neither Roger nor Elizabeth seemed to have a problem with it, so she let herself relax.

"Now, if I may," Carolyn began, straightening her shoulders and taking a breath. "I think that Vicki should move in."

"What?" Victoria exclaimed. She noticed David's expression take on about fifteen different emotions at once, shock and anger being the most prevalent.

Elizabeth frowned. "Carolyn, what are you talking about?"

"You can't say it wouldn't be easier for her!" Carolyn insisted. "With her – job." She cast a nervous glance to David before she added, "She can't exactly watch the house if she isn't here to see it."

A look of consideration crossed Elizabeth's face. She said, "It's not as though we don't have the space."

Roger gave Victoria a knowing look. "It's true," he said, "And I'm sure it would be nice for you to be _closer_ to some people. Barnabas, for instance."

Victoria could feel her face turn violently red and she looked away from Roger. She didn't miss Carolyn's glare, though.

"That isn't what I meant," she snapped.

"Regardless," Roger replied, now obviously taunting. "Miss Winters _has _been seeing Barnabas, and if she were to move in, it would cut down on the distance considerably."

Victoria looked up at him and noticed the smirk on his face. She sent him a pleading look to get him to stop. She knew that he wasn't serious, but she also didn't want to deal with the awkwardness and embarrassment, not to mention Carolyn's sudden anger about it.

Carolyn, obviously flustered, pushed some blonde hair out of her face and crossed her arms. "Yes – well – it's ultimately Vicki's decision, so."

Victoria suddenly felt all eyes on her, and she looked between Roger and Elizabeth nervously.

"I appreciate the offer," she began. "Really – I do. And – are you sure that it wouldn't be any trouble?"

"Absolutely positive," Elizabeth said. "I'd be more than happy to make the accommodations, if you think it would make things easier on you."

"You do have a point there," Victoria said with a smile. "It would. You're absolutely right."

"So will you?" Carolyn asked. It seemed that she was suddenly eager once again.

Victoria glanced over at Carolyn and her smile grew wider. "I think it's a good idea. If it doesn't work out, I'm sure that I could find another apartment. But – what about rent?"

Elizabeth replied, "I could take it out of your pay, if you'd like."

Victoria hesitated a moment before answering, pondering her options, and then she took a deep breath. The wide smile returned, and she nodded. "I would. Very much."

o o o

The back seat of Victoria's car was packed with boxes as she pulled up to Collinwood and parked. She waited a moment to redo her ponytail before she stepped out of the car and started to get the boxes out. Maggie was at her heels to help her.

"This is the last of it," Victoria said, slightly apologetic. "I had no idea I had so many things."

"It's kind of hard to believe," Maggie agreed. "I don't know where they all fit in that one-bedroom apartment."

Victoria pulled out another box and stacked it on top of the one she'd grabbed. She started to walk to the door, which had been propped open. "Either way, thank you for helping me."

"I can't say it's how I wanted to spend my Saturday, but at least I'm out of the house." Maggie tried to do what Victoria had done with the boxes, but when she stacked them, the one on top nearly toppled over. Maggie was quick to save it, though, and placed it on the ground.

"I didn't expect it to take so long. I figured we'd be finished before dark." Victoria paused and gave Maggie a concerned look. "Is your dad going to be alright?"

Maggie laughed a little too loudly, walking toward her with the box. "He was out like a light when I left. A hangover, probably." She rolled her eyes, exaggeratedly.

"If you say so," Victoria said, giving Maggie a small smile before she shivered in the evening air. "Come on, let's get these in the house."

Victoria let Maggie, who was carrying the bigger box, walk ahead of her. She started to follow behind, but the sudden sound of footsteps in the gravel behind her made her stop. When Victoria turned, she came face to face with Barnabas Collins. She tried to greet him, but a strange feeling swept over her, leaving her speechless.

"Victoria," he said. "What a pleasant surprise."

Victoria finally managed a, "Hello, Barnabas," before her attention was diverted back to her boxes. "I'm sorry, I can't talk right now. I'm moving, actually, and -"

"Into Collinwood?" Barnabas asked.

Victoria hesitated, unsure whether or not she wanted him to know that information. But she realized he would certainly find out eventually, and said, "Well – yes."

Barnabas' eyes twinkled. "How wonderful," he said. His eyes flicked behind her, to Maggie, Victoria presumed. Then, he turned his attention back to her. "Are you in need of any help?"

She pushed a loose strand of hair out of her face and shook her head. "No, thank you. We're almost done."

But Barnabas was already gripping the boxes and taking them out of Victoria's hands, sidestepping Maggie to carry them into the house like it was nothing. Then, he came outside to grab a couple more.

Maggie watched him, a look of awe on her face, before scuttling over to Victoria.

"Is that who I think it is?" Maggie whispered.

"That's Barnabas Collins," Victoria replied as he walked past. He gave her a glance, and she smiled nervously at him.

"The man who came to the inn that night!" Maggie exclaimed. "I knew it."

The two tried to take the reigns back from Barnabas and bring in the boxes on their own, but he wouldn't hear of it. Before they knew it, he had carried all of the boxes into the foyer, and was organizing them to make paths to the staircase, drawing room, kitchen, and Roger's study. He even offered to carry them up the stairs to Victoria's room, but she stopped him. That was when he smiled warmly at her and took her by the hand, leading her outside and ignoring how tense and reluctant she became.

"What is it?" Victoria asked.

"I must confess something to you," Barnabas said, reaching inside his coat. "I was planning on coming to see you tonight, though meeting you here was just a wonderful coincidence. There's something I want you to have." He pulled out a small, round, golden box. He opened the lid, and a dreamy, tinkling melody filled the air. He held it out to Victoria.

"A music box?" she asked curiously, taking it from him and examining it. As she held it closer, she could see the tarnish and dullness of the metal, despite obvious attempts to clean it.

"I found it in the Old House earlier," Barnabas explained. "In Josette's room. I believe it may have been hers."

"Barnabas -" Victoria began warily, never taking her eyes off of the music box.

Barnabas interrupted, "I want you to have it."

She immediately shook her head, holding the music box back out to him. "No. I can't."

Barnabas lightly pushed the music box back toward her. "Please, Victoria. It belonged to such a graceful, beautiful woman in the past, I find it only natural that you should inherit it."

His words sent a chill up Victoria's spine which she fought to suppress. She sighed, closed her eyes, and snapped the lid shut. The music cut off abruptly, and she quipped, "You're too kind."

Barnabas seemed blissfully unaware of her annoyance and the way she stood there awkwardly, and when Victoria turned to go back into the house, he grabbed her by her arm. She turned back to face him, her green eyes wide, and after a moment passed, he began to lean in toward her. Victoria, in return, leaned back and stepped away from him.

"Barnabas -" she said.

"Forgive me," he muttered quickly.

She shook her head. "I – this isn't the right time," she said. "For any of this." She tried to ignore the way his face fell before continuing. "There's a lot going on that I don't think you know about – and you're moving so fast with this, and..." Victoria trailed off, shaking her head again.

Barnabas was silent for a long time before he said, "If I've offended you, then I apologize."

She smiled hesitantly. "You haven't offended me," she said, even though it was a lie. "This just isn't good for me right now."

He sighed, and Victoria held out the music box. "If you would like this back, I understand completely."

Barnabas gave her a small smile. "Victoria, I stand by everything I said. Please, I'd be honored if you kept it."

Victoria's fingers closed around the small box. "Then I will." She held in a sigh as relief flooded through her; she hadn't expected Barnabas to take this so well. As for the music box, she practically threw it on the table in the foyer when she went back inside to bring her things upstairs. She assumed that it would be forgotten about there, but she was wrong. A knock came at her door later that night as she was getting ready for bed, and when she didn't answer immediately, Carolyn poked her head in.

"Vicki?" she asked.

"Hm?" Vicki, caught brushing her dark hair, turned to face her. "What is it?"

Victoria's stomach dropped when Carolyn held up the music box.

"I found this in the foyer," Carolyn said, "I thought you might've forgotten it."

"Of course," Victoria replied. "Could you put it on my nightstand?"

Carolyn did just that, stepping into the room for a moment to set the box on the table by a lamp. Then, she wished Victoria good night, and left.

Victoria crawled into bed, her eyes focused on the music box. She sighed, knowing she was being silly, that she shouldn't let something so simple as a music box frighten her, but just the fact that it was linked to _her..._

Victoria groaned in frustration, grabbed the music box, and threw it under her bed. The melody started up. She scrambled out of bed and into the floor, and only after she had shut the music box did she realize how quickly her heart was beating. She looked around her room for a course of action to take, her eyes landing on her chest of drawers. She moved over, pulled open the bottom drawer, and placed the box in the back corner before she let herself take a deep breath.

And that was when the hair on the back of her neck began to prickle, and she could feel the eyes watching her. She shivered and turned around, half expecting someone to be in her doorway. When there was no one there, she marched over and locked the door. It did nothing to ease the feeling. Hesitantly, Victoria made her way over to the window. She looked out of it onto the lawn of Collinwood, and something caught her attention. She swore that she could see something dart from the bushes, but after over a minute of watching, it didn't reappear. Victoria sighed. She chided herself as she closed the heavy curtains, and her gaze instinctively drifted to her desk, where volumes of old spiral notebooks sat: her father's notes, his accounts of the threats he had encountered.

Somehow, it was enough.

She squared her shoulders and kept her chin up, although she only walked to turn off the light before she crawled into bed, but it helped. For the first time in the past few weeks, she felt confident, capable, and almost relieved as she drifted off to sleep


	7. Chapter 7

A/N – Hey, I just wanted to check in and thank everyone who's read so far and anyone who continues to read. I know I haven't gotten many reviews on this, but I do check the stats on it, and seeing that I _do_ have readers makes me incredibly happy. I also wanted to wish everyone a merry Christmas, if that's what you celebrate, or happy Hanukkah, or anything else I've missed. And if you don't celebrate anything at all, well, have an awesome end of December! And another thing – there's a chance the next chapter may be late. I'm leaving on a trip to Florida next Thursday, which is the day I usually update, and there's no guarantee I'll have Internet where I'm staying. But I will try to get chapter eight up ASAP – hopefully next Wednesday.

**Chapter Seven**

The next week, Willie stopped by.

Roger and Elizabeth weren't home. David had gone outside to play, and Carolyn had gone shopping. Victoria was the only one in the house, and, to be frank, a confrontation was the last thing on her mind. She had papers to look at, but once she opened the door and saw Willie, all thoughts of grading flew from her mind. She had no idea what he had been called over to check, but she didn't _care. _This was her chance. She knew that it couldn't be any easier. She had to take it.

Willie suddenly turned nervous when he saw Victoria answer the door. "Uh – hey, Miss Winters," he said. "Missus Stoddard said that there was somethin' wrong with the window in the drawin' room, so – uh – I should probably check it out."

"Oh! Right!" Victoria smiled and opened the door wider. She figured that it was best to act like she knew what he was talking about. He wouldn't become suspicious that way. "Of course. Come in, Willie."

Willie ducked his head and walked into the foyer as Victoria closed the door. Afterward, she led him into the drawing room, and he took the matter into his own hands, moving to the window and pushing the heavy red curtains aside. He faced away from her, and he didn't see as she quietly closed and locked the doors behind her.

Victoria cleared her throat. "Willie," she said, turning to him. He was crouched near the window, digging a screwdriver out of his toolbox.

"Yeah?" he asked.

Victoria took deep breath and, mustering up all the strength she could, marched across the room to the window. She crossed her arms over her chest and asked, "Where did you get the marks on your neck?"

She watched as Willie's eyes widened and one of his hands flew immediately to his neck, where a bandage hid the punctures from Victoria's view today. He sighed; Victoria assumed he was relieved that the bandage was still there.

"I – uh – I had an accident workin' at the Old House," he said. He avoided Victoria's eyes and scratched the back of his head, messing up his dark blond hair in the process.

She frowned. "What happened? It must have hurt quite badly; you're lucky you didn't have to have stitches."

Willie took a while longer to respond this time, and he occupied himself with his toolbox. When he had finally found an appropriate screwdriver, he stood up and checked the lock on the window.

"A couple'a points were stickin' out from the wall," he said. He wiggled the lock back and forth. "It was dark in the room – no light in there, y'know – and I ran into 'em. They ain't as bad as they look."

She tilted her head to the side and replied, "That's strange. When I saw them that night, the looked almost like _bites."_

Willie visible tensed and Victoria had to hold back a wide grin; she was proud of herself, even if she hadn't thought that Willie would be hard to break.

Still, he shook his head and laughed hesitantly. "Ah – nope. Must've just been the bad light in there or somethin'."

"Well, what did Barnabas say when it happened? Surely he suggested that you go to the doctor; a wound like that could get infected quite easily, I think."

This time, Willie actually paused. Victoria watched him close his eyes for a moment and take a deep breath before he looked at her. He also looked as though he had paled slightly.

"Look, Miss Winters," he said, "I'm tryin' to figure out what's wrong with this window and – no offense or nothin' – but you're kinda makin' it hard to concentrate."

"Oh! I'm sorry, Willie," she said, and she took a step back. "You're right – it's none of my business. I was just worried, I suppose." She gave him a sheepish look and he smiled slightly before she went to sit in one of the chairs in the drawing room.

Willie finished with the window rather quickly, and he packed up his toolbox and made to leave. "Tell Missus Stoddard it's good as new," he said. He scratched the back of his head again.

"I will," Victoria said with a nod. "And will you tell Barnabas that I say hello?"

Willie, who had been halfway across the room from the doors, stopped in his tracks. He turned to face Victoria, his face deathly serious. "Now listen, Miss Winters, if you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from Barnabas." He made to approach her but stopped abruptly again, and then he winced, as if realizing the consequences of what he had just said.

She realized them too, but she didn't let on. She frowned again. "I don't understand."

"Just – forget I said anything," Willie snapped. He looked away from her, and she got out of her seat, her face the portrait of utmost concern.

"Willie – has Barnabas done something to you?" she asked.

Willie scratched at his neck again, this time closer to where the bite marks were. Victoria came closer, and she could see where the bandage was starting to peel away from his skin, but he didn't stop scratching. His voice was shaking when he said, "I gotta go."

Victoria caught his arm. "Did he – did Barnabas give you those marks?"

He jerked away from her and headed quickly toward the door. "I said I gotta go," he snapped, and he tried to throw open the doors, shaking them before realizing they were locked. He unlocked them with a heavy hand and threw them open before breaking into a run across the foyer. By the time Victoria had reached the doors of the drawing room, he was gone.

She stood staring at the front door for a long moment, and not once during that time did she realize that she was shaking. When she finally came to her senses and realized the weight of the situation, she had to lean against the door frame to make sure that she didn't fall. She made her way to the chair she had been sitting on a few moments before, and tried to get her thoughts under control.

_It wasn't a confession._ That was the first thought that ran through her mind, but Victoria rolled her eyes at herself and brushed a hand through her thick dark hair. She knew that it had been every bit as good as. And that meant that she had been right in her assumption that night: Barnabas _was_ a vampire.

Victoria let the reality of that sink in, and all of a sudden she felt sick – violently so, but nothing happened. She squeezed her eyes shut as she leaned forward in her seat, her arms around herself. She couldn't let her fear get the best of her, she knew, and even though the only thing she wanted to do was run upstairs and crawl into bed and pull the blankets over her head and never come out again, she knew that she couldn't do that. She had a job to do. Elizabeth and Roger and Carolyn were depending on her – David as well, although he didn't know it.

But Barnabas was a member of that family too, wasn't he? Confusion struck Victoria as she thought that surely he wouldn't want to hurt _them._ It was out of character with everything her father had ever told her about vampires. She knew them as ruthless, bloodthirsty beasts, not as the polite and seemingly gentle man that Barnabas was.

She shook the thought from her mind, knowing that there wasn't any time to dwell on it. He could be creating a charming persona to fool her and the family. Victoria knew that that wouldn't be out of character whatsoever for a vampire.

And now all she needed was a course of action.

She knew that it would be wise to strike now, while it was still daylight. If the myths were true and he really _was_ a vampire, he would be asleep. Victoria suddenly put another piece in the puzzle and realized that she never had seen him before sundown. Another strike. And she would have to find his coffin. The ill feeling crept up in her stomach again; she had no idea where the coffin was, and with all the repairs that Barnabas was doing to his house, she knew that he would be wise to somehow rig it with traps to catch intruders who might have found out what he was. Intruders like her. Victoria suddenly felt bolted to her seat. It was clear that she wouldn't be going anywhere that afternoon.

Besides, why would she? Yes, she had figured out the basics, but what next? Should she call the family and tell them? No – she wouldn't trouble them right now. Not until after she'd done her research. She looked over her shoulder, toward the foyer and the staircase. All of her books and notes were in her room. She could look them over; the written material she had about vampires was relatively straightforward. If she read it now, she could go and be back before the others ever got home. Victoria took a deep breath. Slowly, she lifted herself out of the chair, still holding onto the armrests. She began to walk out of the drawing room, but she let the liquor cabinet distract her and made a beeline for it. It took her a moment to find the glasses, and she looked through the selection quickly to see if there was anything other than brandy. Slightly discouraged that there wasn't, she sighed and poured herself a glass anyway. She downed it in one gulp. It burned. She winced. Still, Victoria eyed the bottle again, tempted to take another glass, but she didn't. She knew better than to drink her fears away completely, and if she were drunk, there'd be no hope for her concentration with this. Once again, she began to walk out of the room, and actually made it this time. Victoria walked across the foyer and started up the staircase, trying to ignore all of the impulses in her mind that were screaming at her to just drop the subject, that she wouldn't like what she found, that she wasn't cut out for this job anyway. Glaring at nothing in particular, she gathered all of her determination and hurried to finish her walk up the staircase and into her room. She closed the door and leaned back against it, her eyes falling to her desk.

The books were waiting there. Victoria knew that she had put them there herself, that they'd been there since she had moved in. But somehow they seemed to make themselves more apparent, as though they had a mind of their own, as though they knew that this moment was coming. She reminded herself how simple it would be, how quickly it would be over, and -

She ignored them, instead reaching immediately for her laptop computer and flopping down on her bed. It was an old, slow thing, given to her by her father as a high school graduation present. Victoria opened up her browser and entered "vampire" into the home page's search engine, but she hesitated before clicking the button to submit it. She let her head relax against her pillows. She had a distinct feeling that her situation shouldn't be this difficult.

Did her father ever have this much trouble coping with it? What was _his_ first encounter like? Victoria felt panic rise up in her as she remembered that she had never asked him things like that, and he had never volunteered. A moment later, she was mentally kicking herself for that mistake, the fact that she was being so _stupid, _and there was no way that she would be competent at this, and it was supposed to be Peter's job _anyway -_

Victoria turned with sudden alertness back to her computer screen and submitted her search. It might seem ridiculous in concept, but she couldn't help but feel that she might have dug her own grave by not talking to her father about this.

Hours passed, and Victoria was still engrossed in her search, somewhat distressed that each version of the creature she came across had slight differences. They weren't much to the average reader, but enough to frustrate her. What if Barnabas wasn't the typical vampire? What if she assumed he was a certain – _species_ – and she was wrong? What then? So many questions filled her mind and demanded answering at the same time that she didn't even hear Elizabeth and the others come home. She was only jolted out of her thoughts when she heard a door slam across the hall. Voices followed it, angry ones, followed by Carolyn's shrill arguing. Victoria frowned and rose from her bed, setting her computer to the side. She opened her door a crack, just enough to let herself slide out into the hallway and close it behind her. The arguing stopped, and Elizabeth turned around to look at Victoria. Carolyn peeked around her mother as well, and Victoria's eyes went wide.

Carolyn had dyed her hair a dark shade of brown.

Victoria had to bite her lip to keep from saying anything. It was clear from the way that she was being stared at that she had made the situation more awkward by even stepping outside, so she made to go back in her room, lowering her head in apology. Before she could, though, Carolyn had shoved past Elizabeth and then past Victoria into Victoria's room. Victoria frowned and followed her in, and Elizabeth marched after her.

"Carolyn -" Elizabeth began, but Carolyn groaned and pushed Victoria's door closed. For good measure, she locked it. Victoria chided her and unlocked it right after. She was tempted to open it again, but from the sound of it, Elizabeth had left the scene. Victoria kept the door closed.

"So I'm gonna get it from you, too, huh?" Carolyn said, staring up at the ceiling. "I thought I could come in here to catch a break. Guess not." She sat up and sighed.

Victoria took a seat in the chair at her desk, and she tried to think of the best way possible to bring up the obvious. "Your mother didn't know about – that?" She grabbed a lock of her own dark hair to demonstrate.

Carolyn shook her head and grinned broadly. "Nope. Neither did I – it was a totally random decision. Do you like it?" She shook her head again, this time more vigorously, to show off the hair that had once been blonde. Now that Victoria had a better look at it, she tried not to grimace. The dye job hadn't been done very well at all; Carolyn's hair had a heavy concentration of brown in the front, while the back was much lighter. Victoria thought she could even see blonde on the very bottom layers. It was also a stark contrast against her pale skin, and her blonde eyebrows didn't help the matter.

"Did you do it yourself?" she asked. Carolyn nodded, and Victoria smiled slightly, glad she'd managed to skirt around the issue without having to upset Carolyn.

"How come?"

"How come what?" Carolyn asked. She couldn't keep her hands off of her hair, and she tucked a lock behind her ear.

"Why did you dye it? You had very pretty hair to begin with."

Carolyn fidgeted slightly before she shrugged. "Dunno. I guess – I dunno, I guess I was just bored with it. There are tons of blonde girls at my school. I bet guys like brunettes better, anyway."

Victoria just barely caught the hints of a snide remark somewhere in that explanation, and she tilted her head to the side. "What makes you say that?"

She shrugged again and got up from the bed, making her way to Victoria's dresser and the mirror there. "Brunettes just get more attention, that's all."

Victoria sighed and got up from her chair, joining Carolyn by her dresser. She looked at her through the mirror. "I'm sure you get plenty of attention as it is."

"Not _really,_" Carolyn argued, a slight whine to her voice. "The guys I see are so – _dumb."_

Victoria stifled a giggle. "Carolyn, they're high school boys. Of _course_ they're dumb." When Carolyn showed a small smile, she added, "Besides, they'll be there when the time is right."

Carolyn clicked her tongue. "I guess." She walked away from the dresser and sat down on Victoria's bed again. Her hand went back to her hair, this time to the back, and she ran her fingers through it several times before she looked back at Victoria. "It looks terrible in the back, doesn't it?"

Victoria bit her lip and simply nodded. Carolyn let out a loud whine before hurrying to the door and flinging it open. "This is _stupid_," she groaned before hurrying out into the hall. Victoria frowned and walked after her, peeking out the door, but she was only just in time to see Carolyn's bedroom door shut. She sighed and shut her own door again, shaking her head and smiling fondly. _This_ was what she had to look forward to for as long as she lived here.

At least until something happened.

Dread filled Victoria as she realized that if she didn't do something, there might not be anything to look forward to. She didn't have time to dwell on how the whim of a spoiled teenage girl seemed to be the one thing that could properly motivate her; she hurried to her desk and grabbed one of her father's books – the third from the top of the stack. She'd read the notes many times and knew exactly where to look. The books were as familiar as the palms of her own hands. Her eyes skimmed the pages quickly, looking for any mentions of vampires before she found what she was looking for. Dave Woodard had written down everything he could about every vampire he'd ever met, down to a diagram of their fangs. There was an old photograph of puncture wounds on a human neck – Victoria suppressed a shudder at how uncanny the resemblance to Willie's wounds was. Even more disturbing was the confirmation of her suspicions: Barnabas matched nearly every single trait that her father had written for vampires.

She put the book down on her desk and closed her eyes, taking deep measured breaths to collect her thoughts.

If she was wrong, she would have killed an innocent human being. Or, at least, she would have attempted to.

But if she was right and she did nothing, she risked losing her job, losing the family to a bloodthirsty creature – or potentially her own life. What if he had friends that were the same as him? Victoria only had to imagine a legion of vampires in Collinsport for a moment before she understood how quickly the town would dissolve into chaos and destruction from something of that magnitude. And she understood what she had to do – at least _try_ to do. It was a chance that she had to take.

Her palms were sweaty and she wiped them on her jeans as she leaned over and opened the bottom drawer of her desk. She took out a thin, black box and opened it. Inside was a stake. Victoria remembered admiring it when she was a little girl. It was smooth, with a beautiful design etched into the rich-colored wood. It was odd how such an object could give her strength in a time like this, but she could practically feel it surging through her, easing her fear slightly.

Set in her decision, she reached over to her bedpost for her purse and shoved the stake into it. She checked to make sure that the crucifix was still in there, and even though it was, shoved a rosary from the drawer into the pocket of her jeans anyway. She could never be too safe. And then, without giving herself time to second-guess the entire thing, she left the room. Victoria closed the door behind her and headed down the stairs, trying to focus on the task at hand and her determination. It would be over quickly, she told herself, one quick stab in the heart and she wouldn't have to worry about this anymore. On top of that, she would finally have proved herself to the family...

Victoria reached the handle of the front door and her fingers closed around it. With a hard pull, it opened, and she stepped out into the night, her eyes directed to the ground. Had she been looking straight ahead, she would have managed to catch herself before she walked straight into Barnabas Collins.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Victoria froze, staring straight into Barnabas' face. She willed herself not to tremble, not to show any signs of weakness. For all she knew, this could be some sort of blessing in disguise, and even if it wasn't, she still had a job to do, even though things weren't going according to plan at the very moment. The worst thing to do, she knew, would let Barnabas detect any signs of weakness from her.

"Miss Winters," Barnabas said politely, "where are you going at this hour? And without a jacket. You must be cold." He brought a hand to her shoulder and Victoria tensed before she could catch herself. She relaxed quickly and shrugged his hand away.

"I'm fine," she replied, shaking her head. "I was only heading out for some fresh air. That's all."

Victoria saw Barnabas' eyes flick to her purse, and she instinctively held it close to her. His eyes drifted back to meet her gaze.

"I don't suppose you'd like my company," he said with a light chuckle.

Victoria pondered the idea for an instant, and decided to take the gamble. She smiled thinly and replied, "I'd like that, actually. The house has been empty all day."

Barnabas smiled back at her, and a feeling akin to relief filled her. It seemed as though he suspected nothing, thank goodness. He offered his arm to her and Victoria took it gingerly, still pressing her purse tightly to her side. They walked around the house and came to the terrace at the back. Victoria let herself steal a quick peek at the house itself; the lights were still on upstairs, she noticed. If she screamed, hopefully, there would be someone there to hear her. At the thought of screaming, Victoria felt the fear prickle inside of her again, but she took a deep breath to shake it out. _This isn't a time to let him get the better of you, _ she thought.

Barnabas took a seat on one of the benches, and Victoria did the same. She tried to make sure to stay a decent distance away from him, but the bench was small. There wasn't very much space to begin with.

"You seem distant, if I may say so," Barnabas said after a moment.

"Do I?" Victoria asked. She looked up at him. "I don't mean to be. I'm sorry."

"It wasn't a reprimand," Barnabas replied. He smiled warmly at her, but it set her on edge. She looked away. He asked, "Is something wrong?"

Victoria got up off of the bench and walked toward the other side of the terrace. Her fingers traced the zipper of her purse, and she thought about how easily she could open it. How simple it would be to pull out the stake and send it speeding toward Barnabas.

How easily he could move out of its way. How easily he could come behind her and bite her in the throat, if he really was what she suspected.

Victoria couldn't suppress that chill.

She took another moment to gather her thoughts, and she made sure that she was saying the right thing when she said, "Have you ever had a friend that turned out to be something else entirely from what you expected?"

There was a long silence. The breeze blew loudly through the trees, and Victoria wrapped her arms around herself. She wished that she actually had brought her coat, especially now that she had no idea how long she would be out here.

"I think everyone has experienced something like that," Barnabas finally replied.

"Of course," Victoria said. She still didn't turn around to face him. "I only wanted to make sure you could relate."

"If I may ask," Barnabas began, "how long have you known this friend? Do _I_ know them?"

Victoria stiffened. "Not long at all," she said, answering the first part. "And... quite possibly."

"I won't ask who it is." Victoria could hear the slight smile in his voice, as though he were trying to take away any worry that she might have with confiding in him. It didn't work.

"Thank you for that, at least," Victoria said. She laughed nervously.

"But may I ask what they've done to offend you?"

"He -" Victoria cut herself off suddenly, and she grimaced. By revealing the gender, she might have revealed too much already. "_They_ haven't really done anything, I suppose. I've probably just been foolish. I wasn't on my guard."

"But surely they must have done something to make you feel this way," he commented. "I'm sorry that they are making you worry."

"I'm just realizing certain things about certain people," she said. Finally, she turned around to face him. "Things that they kept hidden from me. Understandably, I think, but it changes everything."

Barnabas hesitated. He looked at the ground, digging his cane into one of the cracks between the bricks, then looked back up at Victoria. "I can't help the feeling that you're referring to me, Miss Winters," he said.

Again, she froze. It took a moment before she realized that the hand holding her purse was shaking slightly, and she steeled herself to stop it. She took a deep breath. She tried to weigh her options and consequences, but the words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself: "You're a vampire."

Barnabas' eyes widened with surprise, then fury, and she could tell when he tried to morph that into something akin to amusement.

"I beg your pardon, Miss Winters?"

Victoria's eyes darted to the window, then to the lawn. She could run, she knew, but after her outburst, how far would he let her get? No, she had no choice now but to face the consequences of what she had just done. She set her shoulders back.

"You're a vampire, Mister Collins."

Victoria kept perfectly still as Barnabas stared her down from the bench, and then he finally rose. He held out a hand as if to grab her by the shoulder, but she darted out of his reach.

"You don't know what you're saying," he told her.

"I know perfectly well what I'm saying," Victoria argued. "It's my job to."

Barnabas gave her an odd, appraising sort of look. "It's nonsense, Miss Winters. Surely you know that vampires are the things of myths."

"That's what most people think, yes." She struggled to keep her voice calm. "My father worked for this family against such mythological things until he died. Things like you."

Barnabas glared, and his lip twitched in a small snarl. "You don't have any evidence."

He was getting angry. That much was obvious, and Victoria paused a moment to rethink what she was doing. She should have gotten the objects out of her bag earlier, she realized. She hurried, fumbling with the zipper, having forgotten about the rosary in her pocket. "Why have I only seen you at night?"

"I'm quite busy during the day, with the restoration of the house."

Her mind raced as she tried to remember all of the evidence she had against Barnabas under pressure. "The – the strange feeling I get around you. The trance-like state. Compulsion!"

"Miss Winters -"

"The _marks on Willie's neck – _the -" Victoria tried to continue, but she became preoccupied with the crucifix in her purse. She had her fingers around it, but the end had caught into the fabric inside the bag and was refusing to come out. She gave it a good pull, and suddenly the purse flew away from her hands, the crucifix included. The sharp point on the end of the object sent a stinging pain through Victoria's palm. She saw blood, and then her purse on the other side of the terrace. Barnabas had taken it from her and thrown it. When she looked at Barnabas, she saw that his face was livid.

Her breath came in short, quick gasps as he began to round on her, although she tried to keep her cool. It was no use. Her defenses were gone, at least the ones she remembered, and now she was left at the mercy of the vampire she had enraged.

"No one will believe you," he hissed.

"I've -" Her voice shook violently and she swallowed, trying to find the courage to speak. "I've already told Roger."

"And he's done nothing." Barnabas grabbed Victoria's arm with a vice grip. She let out a small cry as she tried to wrench free, but it was no use.

"He'll find out about this!" she said, but at this point, she knew she was bluffing. She didn't know how else to get out of the situation; this was the only bet that she had. "He'll find out what you've done, and he'll kill you himself!"

Victoria looked back at Barnabas. He snarled again, this time baring his fangs, and she could feel the energy drain from her body as she nearly fainted. He lifted her other hand, the one she had cut, and pressed his mouth to the wound. Victoria felt as though she would be ill; she looked away. Her eyes drifted across the terrace to where her purse lay. If she could only get over there...

Not knowing what else to do, Victoria kicked Barnabas in the shin.

He flinched. She couldn't have hurt him much, but he flinched, and in doing so, let go of her arm ever so slightly, but enough for her to pull away. She dove to the ground and began to move quickly. The purse was almost in her reach when she felt Barnabas pull her up, his grip so tight around her waist that she could hardly breathe. She felt him close to her neck, felt his fangs pierce her skin, but only managed a cry before she fainted – nowhere near loud enough for anyone to come to her aid.

Barnabas felt Victoria's body go limp in his arms. He felt her skin begin to grow cold, he watched her grow paler, but he couldn't control himself. He had wanted her, but he would hardly have admitted it to himself. He couldn't bring himself to admit that he had wanted to harm her, for she was his Josette, the woman he'd loved, finally returned to him, yet here he was, draining his lost love dry. And he couldn't stop. But he finally came to, and when he did, he dropped her. She fell to the ground unceremoniously as he backed away from her lifeless body, her her blood still dripping from his lips. He looked around frantically; there was no one around, and he let out an anguished cry as he fell to his knees, taking Victoria into his arms once again. This time, he held her in a more loving embrace, willing her eyes to open, willing her heart to beat once more, pleas and apologies spilling from his lips.

She didn't listen. She couldn't. No amount of begging could save Victoria Winters. He was too late.

Another cry escaped him before the sobs began to shake him, and then he knew what he had to do. He stared at her, lying still in his arms, before he pushed her hair back away from her face.

"I'm sorry," he whispered once again, and he pushed back the sleeve of his left arm, revealing his wrist. He brought his wrist up to his mouth and bit down hard, just enough to draw blood. He flinched. Then, he managed to coax Victoria's mouth open and held his wrist to her lips, letting his blood drip inside and down her throat. After he was through, he sighed and rolled his sleeve back down, lifting Victoria up so that her head rested against his shoulder. He held her close and kissed her forehead, wiping away the blood that his lips left on her skin. Barnabas stayed like that for a long time before he silently stood, still carrying Victoria, turned, and began to walk in the direction of the Old House.

o o o

David couldn't sleep. He had been sent to bed a couple of hours before, and he'd tried to sleep – he'd really tried – but it was no use. He currently sat by his window, which was cracked open slightly, and he let the chilly breeze waft over him and into his room.

That was when he heard it.

It sounded like someone crying out in pain, but it was barely audible; it could have easily been a wounded animal, or even something David had imagined. Still, something about the sound put David on his guard, and he listened again, putting his ear closer to the window. When he heard no other sound, he opened the window wider and leaned out of it, his eyes darting around the dark lawn for some kind of source. David's room was actually in a rather convenient position, just above the terrace, but when David looked out, all he saw was the ledge and large tree that blocked his view. He sighed and frowned. Even the house was trying to keep him from anything exciting. With a huff, David made to close the window when he heard another noise: this time, it sounded like a sort of strangled sob.

It sent an anxious feeling through David, and he closed the window hastily, and locked it for good measure. He turned off his lamp and crawled into bed, moving completely under the blankets and pulling them close around him. He squinted his eyes shut so hard that he could see bursts of color behind them, and he stayed like that for quite a while. When he opened them, though, David found that he was still wide awake – more so than when he had gone to his window in the first place. The nervous feeling still hadn't left him alone; in fact, now that he was completely in the dark, he felt it more than ever. David tried to pull the blankets tighter around himself, but then it became too stuffy and he needed air. He poked his head out, and his eyes landed on the door.

It was open. Just a crack, but it was open just enough to send David scrambling from his bed to slam it shut. He locked it, just as he had his window, before going back to bed. He sighed again. He didn't know how late it was, but he did know that if he fell asleep in class tomorrow, Miss Winters would be less than pleased.

His eyes fluttered open again. He hadn't seen Miss Winters all day. Normally, he wouldn't have thought twice about that, and he might have even been _glad,_ but his imagination was currently working overtime. What if the cry he thought he heard earlier had been _hers?_ What if she was hurt and he didn't tell anybody?

More importantly, why did he care so suddenly?

David didn't know, but his anxiousness mixed with a strange kind of worry, creating the perfect feeling to ensure that he wouldn't sleep at all. Reluctantly, he got out of bed again, sliding his feet into a pair of slippers near his nightstand. He unlocked his door and scooted out into the hallway, creeping in the dark until he came to the door of his father's bedroom. David took a breath and knocked lightly.

He heard a brief rustling, then footsteps, and then finally Roger answered the door. He looked tiredly down at his son and gave him a blunt, "What?"

David pointed to his room. "I heard something outside."

Roger's expression didn't change when he said, "Something like _what?_ There are a lot of things outside."

"Someone crying," David replied.

"Crying?" Roger's brow furrowed before he brought up a hand to rub his temple. "David, I'm sure it was just the wind."

"They sounded hurt," the little boy said immediately. "It might've been Miss Winters."

Worry flickered on Roger's face for an instant before he closed his eyes and sighed. "Nonsense; I saw Miss Winters this evening with my own eyes, and I'm sure she hasn't left the house. And even if she has," he paused and looked down at David, "she's quite capable of taking care of herself."

"But -"

"No 'buts,' David. I want you to go straight to your room and back to bed. You have school in the morning."

David narrowed his eyes into a glare at Roger, but Roger ignored him and shut the door, leaving David in the dark again. Feeling along the wall so that he didn't trip, David trudged back to his room and back into his bed, just as he'd been told. Bitterness now mixed with the anxiousness and worry. No one ever listened to him. But they'd see. One day, they would see, and they would be sorry.

o o o

It wasn't even seven A.M when Willie practically barged into Collinwood. He knocked several times, getting louder and louder without letting up, until Carolyn finally answered the door in a robe, her hair still wet from her shower and a blow dryer clutched in her hand.

"I gotta talk to Missus Stoddard," Willie said breathlessly, pushing past Carolyn into the foyer.

"Good morning to you too, Willie," Carolyn said grumpily, standing with a hand on her hip. "What's so important?"

Willie took off his gloves and wrung them around in his hands as he turned to face Carolyn, and through his shakiness, he managed to notice that she was wearing nothing but her robe. Her eyes lingered oddly on her before Carolyn noticed and pulled it tighter around herself.

"What is it, Willie?" she asked again.

"It's – just – where's your mom at?" He looked away from her, and Carolyn stared blankly. She gave a shrug of her shoulders.

"I dunno, probably getting ready to wake David up soon. Really, Willie, what's the matter?" Her lips twitched downward in worry.

Willie shook his head. "I'll tell you in a minute – just – get your mom! _Please, _Carolyn!"

Carolyn's stomach dropped at the seriousness of his tone and she left her hair dryer on the table in the foyer before dashing up the stairs, calling for Elizabeth. Elizabeth met her at the balcony, running a brush through her long, dark hair.

"Carolyn, people are sleeping!" she scolded, but Carolyn pointed down into the foyer, where Willie stood.

"Missus Stoddard, I gotta talk to you."

"Of course, Mister Loomis." Elizabeth seemed to detect the urgency and moved down the stairs quickly. She swept her arm toward the drawing room. "We'll go in here -"

"No – it's okay, I can't stay long, I just gotta tell you what happened."

Elizabeth reached the end of the staircase and frowned, staring at Willie expectantly. Carolyn followed her.

"Well, what did happen?" Elizabeth asked.

Willie was just about to open his mouth to speak, but was cut off by loud footsteps above them. Roger emerged at the top of the staircase, looking rather cross with his tie loose around his neck.

"What's all of this commotion about?" he demanded, marching down the staircase. He glared in Willie's direction. "Loomis, there had better be a good reason for all of this.

Willie rolled his eyes and turned in a circle, running a hand through his hair. "Christ, are you gonna let me talk or not?"

Elizabeth laid a hand on Willie's shoulder. "Calm down, Mister Loomis. Tell us what's happened."

"It's Miss Winters," he said.

"Vicki?" Carolyn gasped. Elizabeth's eyes widened, and Roger visibly paled.

"What's happened to her?" Roger asked.

Willie held up a hand to stop them from talking and shook his head. "She's fine – I think she's fine – she got in an accident last night not far from here. Mister Collins – Barnabas – and I were out, too – we got her to a hospital, but -"

"Why didn't anyone tell us?" Elizabeth demanded.

"Mister Collins told 'em she lives here – which, I mean, she does – and that you all would be informed in the mornin'. Which I'm doin' now."

"Is she going to be alright?" Carolyn looked as though she might be close to tears.

"She was pretty bad last night, but they said she'll probably be okay," Willie replied. He scratched at his neck.

"We should go visit her," Carolyn said adamantly. 

"Ah -" Willie shook his head. "She ain't allowed visitors right now. Not until they fix 'er up right. Besides, she ain't even awake, I don't think. They made us leave right after we brought her in, pretty much." He laughed nervously. "But I'm sure if you all called later, they'd be glad to let you."

Elizabeth turned to Roger. "The school. They don't know about..."

Roger shook his head. "No, you're right – you call them, Liz, I've got something I need to take care of myself."

Elizabeth nodded and then turned back to Willie. "Thank you for letting us know, Mister Loomis," she said gently.

Willie scratched at his neck again, smiling briefly. "It was nothin'."

"Carolyn, will you please show Mister Loomis out?" Elizabeth made her way to the drawing room, while Carolyn nodded and walked toward the door.

o o o

Roger had grabbed his phone out of his pocket before he even reached the back door, and when he reached for the handle, he had already dialed the number of the hospital.

"Collinsport Hospital. How may I help you?" answered the voice on the other end.

Roger stepped out onto the terrace in the chilly morning air. "Yes, this is Roger Collins. I'm calling about a patient that checked in late last night."

"Their name?" the receptionist asked.

"Victoria Winters," Roger answered.

"One moment, please." There was a brief rustling of papers on the other end as the receptionist presumably searched for the name, and then she returned. "I'm sorry, Mister Collins, we have no records for that name."

"That's impossible!" Roger insisted. He started to walk around the terrace. "I have it on good authority that she was checked in last night after a car accide -"

It was then that he saw the blood.

The dried puddle was right there in plain sight, a dark scarlet on the gray bricks. Dread filled Roger as he hesitantly walked closer and examined it. There was no way of identifying whose it was, of course, but it seemed concentrated in one spot, covering a few bricks and seeping into the cracks between.

"Mister Collins?" The receptionist said. "Sir? Hello?"

Roger snapped back to reality with a deadly seriousness. "That will be all," he muttered into the phone. He hung up and flipped it shut.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N – Sorry about how late this chapter is, everyone! I had some Internet issues that prevented me from getting on at all yesterday, but better late than never, right? :)

**Chapter Nine**

_Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock..._

The first thing that Victoria heard was the ticking of a clock, each noise it made creating a pounding sensation in her ears and head. She stirred and groaned, bringing her hand up to rub at her forehead, and she discovered that her skin was like ice. She immediately burrowed under her blankets, willing herself to fall asleep again, if only to get rid of the painful beating in her head. And that's when she became aware of the dull pain in her stomach, traveling up her body and making her feel as though it would cave in on itself.

She heard the footsteps in the hallway before they reached the door of the room she was in; when she heard the creaking of the hinges and the door itself moving across the carpet, her first instinct was to pretend that she was still asleep. Victoria squinted her eyes shut and burrowed deeper into her blankets, listening as the footsteps approached. They stopped. Whoever was in her room reached out and lightly touched her cheek before moving to her hair. Victoria tensed as the person stroked her hair, and when their hand crept to the nape of her neck, she grabbed their wrist. Before she knew it, she had leapt out of bed and pinned the intruder to the wall by his wrist and shoulder.

Barnabas.

She gasped and jumped back from surprise at his visit and shock that she had moved so fast. Her hands covered her mouth and she took another step back from him, her eyes starting to dart around the room.

"Miss Winters," Barnabas said. His voice was slow, soothing, almost, but Victoria didn't pay attention. She was too busy taking in her surroundings. Lacy curtains billowed from the wind coming through an open window, moonlight spilling through the glass, somehow illuminating the otherwise dark room to make Victoria see perfectly. She saw the intricate pattern on her bedspread, the sheer fabric of the canopy. She turned her head and saw the mantle and the small clock that sat upon it, the same clock that woke her and was still making havoc in her ears. Near the mantle was a small stepladder, and above the mantle, there was a portrait. Victoria noticed that it sat slightly crooked, as though it had just been hung, and as her eyes took in the picture, she went still. Josette's portrait.

The room wasn't foreign to her, she realized; she'd been here before, the last time she'd been in this house. Barnabas' words to her about staying in this room rang loudly in her ears, and she took another step away from him, her green eyes widening.

"Miss Winters," Barnabas repeated. "_Victoria -"_

"Why am I here?" she asked, cutting him off. Her voice sounded thick and dry with sleep; it came out as more of a breathless rasp. She thought she might have spoken louder than she intended, with the way her voice seemed to bounce loudly off of the walls.

Barnabas held out a hand to her. She eyed it reluctantly as he said, "You need to listen to me."

"_Why am I here?"_ Victoria yelled as fury washed over her. She moved quickly again; if Barnabas blinked, he missed it. She grabbed his wrist and twisted it hard, causing him to cry out in pain. The anger ebbed away as suddenly as it came, and Victoria immediately dropped his wrist, jumping away and covering her mouth again. She shook her head. "I'm sorry – I don't know – I didn't -"

Barnabas' wrist hung limply from his arm as he tried to compose himself.

"I'll call a doctor," Victoria said. She turned to hurry away, but Barnabas stopped her.

"Wait," he snapped, and Victoria hesitantly turned back around upon hearing a strange crackling sound. When she looked back down at his wrist, it was back to normal. Barnabas turned it a few times before stretching his fingers and clasping his hands behind his back.

She swallowed hard. "It was true," she said. Victoria looked him straight in the eyes. "Every word I said – it was true." She took another step away.

"I never wanted you to know," Barnabas said, his voice pained. "At the very least, I never wanted you to find out like this."

Victoria stood still, seemingly unable to will herself to move. She shook her head again. "Why am I here?"

"I could think of nowhere else to take you, after..." Barnabas trailed off, and his eyes dropped to the floor.

"After what?" Victoria demanded, watching him closely. A long moment passed and he didn't answer, prompting her to repeat the question. "Barnabas, _what?"_

He stared up at her. "You haven't realized?"

"Realized...?" Her brow furrowed and she shook her head. Barnabas' eyes quickly darted to her neck. Victoria caught the gaze, and her hand reached up to her pulse. A chill went through her as she felt the punctures on her neck.

"No," she said firmly, but her voice was oddly choked. "No. You're lying." As she took another step back, she felt something in her pocket digging into her skin from the fabric. The rosary. She grabbed the beads and began to pull it out of her pocket, but an intense burning sensation quickly spread up her arm through her fingertips. Victoria yelped in pain and backed into a wall, sliding to the ground as she clutched her hand. Barnabas was instantly by her side, gingerly touching the visible burn until Victoria snatched away from him.

"You'll heal in a moment," Barnabas said softly. Victoria didn't respond, keeping her eyes focused on the ground, her expression icy. Barnabas said, "I didn't want to hurt you, Victoria, you must believe that. I did this to save you."

Victoria tried her best to block him out, but his presence was too much and she began to cringe away from him. "I don't _care," _she snapped. She made to stand up, to get away from him, but her stomach twisted horribly, causing her to double over and cry out in pain.

"Of course. You're hungry." Victoria could practically hear the smile in Barnabas' voice, and dread immediately filled her as he stood up and walked to the door. She watched as he returned a moment later, leading a middle-aged man by the arm. The man stared straight ahead, blank-eyed and slack-jawed, and Victoria felt another pang in her stomach. Suddenly, she realized what he was there for, and she had to look away.

"No," she said.

"Victoria, please," Barnabas said. He led the man to a chair by the mantle. "Resisting now will only make it harder."

"I don't care."

"You'll starve."

Victoria could hear the desperation in his voice, and she couldn't help but relish in it. "_Good_," she spat. "I'd rather that than -" she didn't get to complete the thought as her stomach twisted again, causing her to cry out again. Again, Barnabas was beside her, and before she knew it, she was letting him pull her up by her arm, and closer to the man. Then, he left her side, turning away from her. She looked at the man, still staring straight ahead, expressionless, and suddenly her hunger was too much to control. She opened and closed her fists, trying to manage herself, before finally gripping onto the armrest of the man's chair to steady herself. Her vision was going in and out of focus, she was picking up on smells that she hadn't moments before, and her mind seemed to be filled with the sounds and smells and the _idea_ of his blood.

She tore her eyes away from the man almost painfully, staring at Barnabas. She squinted her eyes shut, trying to block out any need that she might have right now, and she asked in a small voice, "Who is he?"

"I don't know," Barnabas replied. "I didn't ask. I didn't want to know. He's from the Blue Whale – I've compelled him to make this easier for you."

Victoria stared at Barnabas, ready to protest, but then she looked back at the man. The disorientation from a moment before returned, and she couldn't stop herself. A beat passed, and then Victoria had her teeth in his throat. The man went without a sound, offering his blood to her, and she was more than willing to accept it. As she fed, the disorientation began to fade, and she began to regain control of her senses. The idea of what was happening actually hit her, but there was nothing she could do. She wanted to scream, she wanted to wretch, she wanted to hide, but she couldn't stop herself. It was too much for Victoria to handle, but at the same time, it wasn't enough.

"It will become easier," Barnabas said, as though he could sense Victoria's thoughts. "There's no other way around it, and it takes time, but it won't always be like this."

Victoria's eyes flicked to him, but she said nothing, keeping her mouth at the man's throat as blood continued to flow.

"It isn't always horrible," Barnabas continued. There was something in his voice, a tone that suggested that he might be trying to convince himself of that. At the same time, there was a strange sort of relief. "We can be happy together. I promise. You won't be alone. You've nothing to worry about, my darling Josette."

Victoria stopped.

She stood up straight, blood smeared over her face, the now dead man slumping and falling from the chair.

Barnabas stared at her, apparently oblivious to his mistake, and she marched toward him, green eyes blazing with fury, and she shoved him. He flew into the wall, the force breaking it with a loud crack. He yelled out, but Victoria only stood there, her arms going limp at her sides. Barnabas yelled out apologies, but she wouldn't listen. She shook her head, shaking as she tried to control herself, but a moment later, she fled.

o o o

Victoria shrugged on the old gray sweatshirt, letting it cover up the bloodstained shirt that she wore. She used the sleeve to wipe the water off of her face, praying that she'd gotten all of the blood off. After running away from the Old House, Victoria had wandered aimlessly until she found herself along the highway leading to Collinwood, where she had found her car. She had no idea how it had gotten there, or why it was there, or why there were several large dents in it, along with the driver's side mirror missing, but she had managed to salvage the sweatshirt from the back seat. Then, without thinking, she'd listlessly made her way to the beach, where she now stood, taking in the waves and the moonlight and the night air.

The memory hit her like a shot in the head: she couldn't have been more than six years old when she stood with her father and brother on that very beach and watched the sun rise, lightening up the sky from black and coloring it with violets and pinks and oranges, blinding lights bouncing off of the water before. It wasn't the memory that brought so much sadness to her in that moment, it was the fact that she'd never experience beauty like that again. It had been taken from her without her knowledge, without her permission. The decision had been made for her, and Victoria knew that it was the wrong one.

She was jolted out of her thoughts by a loud beep coming from her pocket. She frowned and reached into it, pulling out her cell phone. It currently flashed a low battery warning at her, and she sighed, realizing that she hadn't thought to check it before. Before the phone powered down, she read the time. It was only a bit past ten, far earlier than she had expected.

At Collinwood, they would want to know that she was alright, Victoria thought. She tried not to dwell on how she really _wasn't,_ but as she began to walk away from the beach, she thought that perhaps she could hide it. Perhaps they might overlook it. Perhaps she could tell someone. Roger had helped her a surprising amount in the last few weeks; perhaps he would come through for her again.

Only moments later, she found herself standing on the front stoop of Collinwood. It caught Victoria off guard; she still wasn't used to how quickly she moved now. It seemed that she would have to put in effort to move at a normal pace. She sighed, shook her head, and knocked on the door, taking great care not to accidentally break it in.

A moment later, Elizabeth answered the door, and when she saw Victoria, she stood still.

"Missus Stoddard," Victoria said quietly.

"Vicki," Elizabeth shook her head and opened the door wider, ushering Victoria inside. "What are you doing here?"

Victoria blinked and frowned. "Coming home," she said.

Elizabeth led her across the foyer to the drawing room. "The doctors decided you were well enough to go?"

"Doctors?" Victoria asked. Elizabeth paused at the door to the drawing room, giving her a frown before leading her in.

The first person that Victoria noticed was Willie Loomis, his face going visibly paler when he saw her. He was holding a drink, and she noticed that his hand began to shake.

"Miss Winters," he said, voice trembling. "You – you got out of the hospital early."

She gave him a questioning look, but behind Elizabeth's back he glared at her and nodded firmly. She laughed hesitantly.

"Early?" Victoria asked. "The nurses told me I'd be out by now. There was nothing really wrong with me." She started to brush her hair over her shoulder, but remembered the wounds on her neck. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her sweatshirt.

"That's very odd," Elizabeth commented. "Mister Loomis and Barnabas both visited the hospital, and every time they were told that you weren't well enough to see."

Victoria cleared her throat, averting her eyes from Elizabeth. "There must have just been some kind of miscommunication," she said. "Either that, or they were taking precautions." To distract herself from the awkward moment, she began to look around the room, and her eyes fell on Roger, sitting on the sofa. He sipped at a drink of his own, glancing at Victoria with a steely look. She looked away immediately.

"Nevertheless, we're glad to have you back," Elizabeth said with a smile. She tried to ease Victoria into a chair, but she stepped away.

"I'm actually still very tired," she explained. "Is – is it alright if I go upstairs?"

"Of course," Elizabeth said. "If there's anything you need, don't hesitate to let us know."

Victoria managed a small smile. "I won't. Thank you, Missus Stoddard." Then, she left the drawing room and hurried across the foyer and up the staircase. When she was safely inside her room, she closed her door and locked it, moving to lay down on her bed. She hadn't turned on her lamp, but she could see the stack of books sitting on her desk perfectly. She knew that she really hadn't been gone very long, but so much had happened that she was surprised that her room still seemed like she had never left.

After a few moments of laying in the darkness, Victoria heard a knock on her door. She sat up, turned on the lamp, and opened the door to see Roger standing there, his arms crossed.

"Where were you?" he asked immediately. He stepped around her to enter her room, and she frowned.

"I was in the hospital," she said. "Where else would I have been?"

"What for?" Roger arched an eyebrow at her, and she looked away. Victoria bit her lip, trying to think of something plausible, and then it hit her: her car wrecked and in the woods. Willie and Barnabas had probably put it there to add credibility to this story.

"I crashed my car," Victoria explained.

"Where were you going?"

Victoria glared, her frown growing more prominent as she tried to keep her anger under control. "How is that any of your business?"

Roger looked offended, but Victoria could tell that it was clearly an act. "I'm only asking out of concern, Miss Winters."

She turned away from him. "I'm fine now. You don't have anything to be concerned about."

A beat passed before he said, "I called the hospital, actually. They said they had no records for you."

She froze. "They probably misheard you."

"I found your purse out back. On the terrace," he said, and then he was dangling the bag in front of her. She grabbed the back from him and winced, knowing what else he had found if he had been on the terrace.

Roger didn't miss a beat. "There was something else quite interesting that I found."

"What was that?" Victoria widened her eyes, hoping that it made her look more innocent and questioning than worried.

"Blood."

The word hung in the air, making Victoria bite her lip.

"What?" she asked.

"Blood, Miss Winters," he repeated, and she could hear him pacing a few steps behind her. "Quite a lot of it, too, spilled over several bricks."

"That's – unsettling," she said. She didn't dare risk turning around to face him.

"Indeed." Roger paused suddenly. "You don't have an idea of where it came from, do you?"

"Just because I left my purse out there?" Victoria tried to laugh, but it came out shaky and nervous. "Of course not. But I'll look into it."

"You're sure?" Roger sounded quieter this time, almost gentle, and Victoria had to force herself to resist the strong urge to tell him everything. What if he tried to kill her himself? No, no matter the circumstances, she wouldn't let him know.

"Mister Collins, please, I'm very tired," she insisted, finally turning in his direction. She hastily made her way to the door and opened it. "I said I'll look into it, and I will."

Roger stood still for a long moment. Finally, he sighed and shook his head and made his way to the door, glancing at Victoria on his way out. "Forgive me for bothering you, Miss Winters."

Victoria said nothing as he left, but watched him walk down the hall for a long moment before finally shutting her door again, making sure to lock it, trying to assure herself that she had made the right decision a moment ago.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** I realize this is a few weeks late, and I'm really sorry. I've recently moved back into my dorm for the spring semester, and I was planning on putting this up on time, but time got away from me. Apparently this semester has taken more adjusting than I thought it would! So, I haven't abandoned the story by any means, but I might have to adjust the schedule slightly. But anyway, without further ado...

**Chapter Ten**

"You must stay at the Old House."

Barnabas' voice was firm, but Victoria ignored him as her fingers clicked away on the keyboard of her laptop. She kept her mind focused on the screen in front of her, where she read the words as she typed an e-mail to the school. It explained her absence (blamed on a "strange medical condition" that had recently manifested itself and apparently ran in her family), and added that her sleeping patterns were out of whack. She asked that the school find a long-term substitute, and she would be back as soon as she possibly could, though Victoria knew in the back of her mind that the likelihood of that happening was extremely slim.

"Victoria, you aren't listening."

Victoria stopped typing, but she still paid Barnabas no attention, instead reading back on what she had written. She highlighted a line with her cursor to edit it.

"You must stay there!" Barnabas demanded. "If you don't, it could be the end of your life."

Victoria finished and sent her e-mail before slamming the cover of her laptop shut. She shot back, "You've already taken that from me."

Barnabas was rendered speechless for a moment, his eyes growing a bit wider. Victoria allowed herself a moment of smugness as she slipped her laptop into its case.

"Regardless, Victoria, my only concern is your safety."

She gave Barnabas a long look before sighing and shaking her head. Then, she rose from the sofa and made her way to the entrance of the drawing room. "Thank you for your visit, Mister Collins, but I have other things I need to attend to," she said.

Barnabas glared at her. "Such as?"

Victoria averted her eyes from him. "I promised that I would help David with his homework."

Barnabas stared at Victoria for a long time before averting his gaze and marching through the drawing room and parlor and then out of the house without another word. Victoria let herself relax; she thought that he would never leave. Her eyes drifted to the clock. It was a bit after nine. David would just be getting ready for bed. She looked up at the hallway on the second floor and let herself smile thinly. And then, before she knew it, she was walking up the steps and down the hallway, peeking into the young boy's room. He was sitting at his desk, a pencil in his hand. He looked up with wide eyes once he heard the door open.

"Hi," Victoria said.

David stared at her for a moment longer before ignoring her and going back to his work.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?" she asked.

"I have fifteen more minutes," David mumbled. "I'm not done drawing yet."

Victoria managed a smile and slipped into the room to peer over David's shoulder. "What are you -"

She didn't get to finish before David slammed his arms down, covering the picture.

"It's none of your business!" he said. His eyes narrowed into a glare and Victoria took a step away from him. She could hear the way that his anger got his blood pumping, and it sent a shot of hunger through her. She balled her fists and bit her lip to keep herself under control.

"What do you want?" David snapped.

Victoria looked down at the floor and replied, "I just wanted to let you know that I'm not going to be at school tomorrow. You'll have a substitute."

"So?" Again, David went back to his drawing. "You weren't there yesterday."

"I know," she said, "but because of the – _accident – _I might not be back for a while. I just want you to know, so that you're prepared to adjust to a new teacher."

When David didn't reply, she added, "Maybe you could let the other children know for me?"

He was still silent. Victoria, taking the hint, shook her head and made her way to the door. "Goodnight, David," she said gently before closing it.

She was greeted by Carolyn coming out of the bathroom in her pajamas, toweling her hair dry and looking miserably at the dark stains it was leaving on the towel.

"Carolyn – your hair -" Victoria exclaimed.

Carolyn stopped right at her door and sighed loudly. "I _know,_" she groaned. "I should've just done it professionally." She reached out and twisted the knob to open her door, and Victoria followed her in, standing in the doorway while Carolyn flopped on her bed. She tossed the towel to the floor before laying down, but bolted back up quickly. She checked her pillow case for any stains before sighing with relief.

"Word of advice," Carolyn said, "don't ever use cheap herbal hair dye."

Victoria shook her head, looking at Carolyn with a puzzled expression. "What?"

Carolyn got off of her bed and knelt down to her nightstand and began to rummage through the cabinet of it. She pulled out a glass jar and held it up to Victoria. "This is what I did my hair with."

Victoria took the jar and peered at it curiously. It was fairly nondescript. There were instructions on the label saying to mix the dye with water before use, but as far as she could tell, there wasn't any kind of brand at all. "Where did you get it?" she asked, more out of politeness than anything else. She placed the jar back down on the nightstand.

Carolyn sat back down on the bed. "This really cool apothecary-type place downtown," she explained. "This woman runs it – she has all kinds of interesting stuff in there. Some of it's weird – occult-type stuff, but there are cosmetics and _useful_ things, too."

That piqued Victoria's interest, she had to admit. "There's a store in Collinsport that sells things relating to the occult?"

Carolyn grinned. "I know, right? Really out of place. But it's mostly jewelery and stuff – the lady said some of the herbs were useful for that kind of thing, but I don't know. That's not my specialty."

Victoria asked, "You said it was downtown, right? Where?"

"On Harper Street," Carolyn said. "Why? Are you gonna buy some weird talisman to keep the ghosts away?" She giggled.

"I might." Victoria managed a smile. "Thank you, Carolyn."

"Mmhm. Just don't get the hair dye!" she advised.

"Don't worry, I..." Victoria trailed off as a sick sensation filled her stomach. She had felt it earlier in David's room, but had pushed it to the side. This time, however, it seemed to be returning stronger than before. She shook her head and turned immediately from Carolyn's room.

"Vicki?" Carolyn called.

Victoria ignored her, instead dashing to her own room, closing the door and locking it. She leaned against the wall, trying to still her own trembling, but it was no use. Her stomach twisted painfully, and she had to bite her fist to keep from crying out. Defeat was undeniable. She made her way to her window and, with shaky hands undid the latch and opened it, allowing her to fly out into the night.

o o o

Victoria didn't know how she managed to contain her excitement the following evening. She rose just after sundown, and all the while felt as though her anxiousness inside would just bubble up and overflow. She knew that it was unlikely that Carolyn knew what she was talking about, but in all honesty, Victoria was willing to take any shot that might help her recover from this. She had studied her father's journals intently, and while they had never explicitly stated that there were things that could cure vampirism, he had implied that there were herbs that could ease the symptoms, so to speak, should the need arise.

It took her a while to find the shop. She finally found it due to some odd looking items in the window. She wasn't entirely sure that she had the right place, of course, but it was worth a shot. Victoria parked her car near the curb and hurried out, grabbing her father's journals in the process and holding them close to her chest. She peered in the window by the door just to double-check, and, seeing nothing unusual (at least for a place like this), she took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

The bells above the door jingled as she stepped inside and closed the door. Immediately, she picked up on a strong scent inside the room, and attributed it to the candles burning. It made her eyes water, but she held it in, especially as she wasn't sure whether or not the scent was really as strong as she thought it was. She turned to the counter and smiled, slightly caught off guard that a woman wasn't there like Carolyn had told her. Instead, she was greeted by a man with curly brown hair giving her a charming smile in return, bright blue eyes twinkling. She approached the counter shyly.

"Would you mind if I set my books up here while I look around?"

The man shrugged. "Go right ahead," he said, and Victoria took that as an invitation. She placed the books onto the counter, letting the one on top fall open to the page she had marked: one which listed potential herbal remedies for vampirism. She noticed the man arch his eyebrow, but otherwise he paid it no attention, and Victoria turned to look around the shop.

A moment later, she heard footsteps, and a woman emerged from the back room. She made for the counter but then stopped, her eyes falling on Victoria.

"Quentin, you didn't tell me we had a customer," she said.

"You said you would only be a moment," the man answered nonchalantly.

Victoria said nothing. Instead, she picked up the first thing she saw, a pentagram pendant, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw the woman peering at the books.

"What are these?" the woman asked.

The man inclined his head toward Victoria, and the woman's eyes flicked toward her in return. Victoria pretended as though she didn't notice, but she did. She saw the woman continue to look at the books, almost studying them, until she gently pushed them aside and approached Victoria.

"Is there anything that I can do for you today?" she asked, smiling brightly and tucking a blonde curl behind her ear, large blue eyes staring innocently at her.

Victoria smiled slightly and looked away. "I'm only browsing. I'm new in town – I wanted to see some of the shops that are here."

"Are you?" The woman held out her hand. "My name is Angelique. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Oh!" Victoria put down the necklace she had still been holding and reached out to take Angelique's hand, shaking it politely. "Victoria Winters. It's nice to meet you, as well." She smiled, turning her attention back to the items.

Angelique stayed by her side. "May I ask what brings you to Collinsport?"

Victoria froze, and suddenly she felt as though she were under the scrutiny of those enormous blue eyes. Her mind scrambled to think of an answer. "I've just taken a job," she managed. "I'm a teacher."

"Is that so? Which school?"

"None of them." Victoria forced a smile. "I'm a private tutor for the little boy at Collinwood."

Angelique's smile faded, and Victoria swore that she saw the hints of a glare in the woman's face, but said nothing.

"Collinwood," Angelique stated. She let the name linger in the air.

Victoria nodded. "Yes. I take it you know it?"

Suddenly, Angelique broke out into laughter, a high-pitched sound that would have seemed menacing had the circumstances been different. "Miss Winters, everyone in Collinsport knows Collinwood."

Victoria smiled sheepishly and looked away. "You're right. I suppose that was a silly question."

There was a momentary pause, and Victoria took the opportunity to walk across the shop to look curiously at the other merchandise.

Angelique cleared her throat and asked, "What exactly was it that brought you into my shop?"

Victoria shrugged. She didn't turn around to face Angelique as she replied, "One of the people at Collinwood recommended it to me. She said it might interest me."

"Oh?" Angelique said. "Carolyn, right?"

Victoria glanced over her shoulder and smiled, nodding. "Yes."

"Yes, she comes in here sometimes with a group of her friends. I'm not convinced that they take these things seriously, though." A heavy pause before Angelique added, "Do you?"

Victoria bit her lip. She stood, facing away from Angelique, her fingers playing with the leaf of a plant she had found. "What an odd thing to ask."

"It's only a _question._ I'm the one selling the items; obviously, I won't believe you're insane if you tell me you do."

"I've been known to dabble," Victoria replied after a moment.

There was a silence, and Victoria swore that she could feel Angelique's eyes staring her down. It made her feel uneasy. Then, she heard a faint whisper, and she let her head turn to face the counter. Quentin looked at her, then got up and headed into the back room. He shut the door behind him, and Angelique walked over to Victoria.

"Are you sure there was nothing that you were particularly interested in, Miss Winters?" she asked.

Victoria couldn't help it; her eyes flicked over to the books that still sat on the counter, then down at the floor. When she looked back up again, Angelique had the hints of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth, and her blue eyes twinkled knowingly.

"May I ask where you found that list of herbs?"

"The book belonged to my father," Victoria explained quietly. She nervously glanced at the back door, and then looked away. "Both of them did."

Angelique nodded before turning away to Victoria, walking slowly toward the counter. Victoria watched as she took a closer look at the book, a slim finger tracing its way down the page as she read. When she looked back up, her already light skin had paled visibly.

"These herbs are for easing the symptoms of vampirism," Angelique said. Victoria caught the smallest hint of a shake in her voice, a hiss, but she said nothing in response.

Angelique took a deep breath, her hand running through her blonde hair. As she did so, she lifted it away from her neck, revealing her pulse point.

Victoria turned away immediately. She slammed the object she had been holding down onto a nearby table and covered her mouth with her hand. No, no, no, no, no, no, _no, _she couldn't do this. She had to learn to control this; the woman might actually be able to help her. She couldn't risk destroying what could be her only chance to walk in the daylight again.

Everything around her seemed to turn red as her animalistic instincts began to kick in. Victoria squinted her eyes shut and balled her fists so hard that her fingernails began to cut into her palms. She couldn't breathe, but perhaps the thought of deep, calming breaths would help her overcome her urges.

It seemed to go on forever, but finally, her mind stopped racing. Victoria relaxed, feeling herself come out of it and back to normal. When she turned around, Angelique was standing perfectly still, staring at her, a hint of fear showing in her large eyes.

Victoria mumbled, "I'm sorry."

Angelique said nothing. There was a brief pause before she began fluttering about her shop, scanning her walls. She said, "I'm certain that I have everything on your list."

"Do you need any help?" Victoria asked. She couldn't help but feel uncomfortable; she hadn't meant to make the owner of the shop do her shopping for her.

Angelique shook her head, blonde curls bouncing. "I know exactly where everything is."

Within moments, Angelique's arms were filled with herbs; some were in bottles, others were leaves from plants. She made her way back to the counter and set everything atop of it. Then, she knelt down and brought out a mortar and pestle and another large bottle. Victoria watched as Angelique took equal amounts of each herb and began to grind them up in the small bowl. She worked at them until they appeared to Victoria to be a very light powder, and then emptied them into the bottle. Then, Angelique started over.

"I'm sure I won't need that much," Victoria said, trying to protest, but Angelique sighed and shook her head.

"I'm sure that you will," Angelique argued. She emptied the new powder into the same bottle and began to dust off her counter. She put a cork into the bottle and pushed it toward Victoria, pointing to it. "You must drink this every day," she said. Victoria noticed her eyes flick toward the door, then back to her. She assumed that Angelique was afraid of someone walking in on their conversation. She continued, "It won't cure you. I'm not sure that anything can, but if everything goes according to plan, this should help immensely. You might be able to live normally again, unnoticed. Do you understand."

Victoria stared at the bottle and felt an intense, strange feeling well up inside of her. She was grateful to Angelique, yes, but more than that, it was an overwhelming hope. If it worked, she could set her life straight again. If she survived this, she wouldn't feel like such a failure anymore.

She nodded. "I understand. Thank you."

Victoria's hand shook as she grasped the bottle.


End file.
